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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983214">This Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisses_and_cookies/pseuds/kisses_and_cookies'>kisses_and_cookies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Paper Hearts AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV First Person, POV Harley Keener, POV Peter Parker, angst i guess is what you could call it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:41:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisses_and_cookies/pseuds/kisses_and_cookies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a second part to Paper Hearts! It's Harley and Peter's life after Harley's album comes out. And it covers the time of his tour and his process of writing his new album! And their struggle to have a private life in the public eye </p><p>this is rated Teen mostly for language because I don't know how to not curse</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Paper Hearts AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. My love, they are the hunters, we are the foxes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I'm back with another part to Paper Hearts, if you feel like reading it! I hope you enjoy it :) I'm going to try and update every day, which shouldn't be too hard since I have 95% of it already written!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as I’m settled on the couch, Morgan runs into the room, not even slowing down before she launches herself next to me. Everything is a confusing blur of pink pajamas, mousy brown hair and almost spilled coffee. I hold my coffee gingerly as she tucks herself into my side. Once she’s settled, she points to the tv and says, “Daddy says Harley is going to be on tv!”</p>
<p>I can’t help but let out a soft chuckle. Morgan LOVES Harley. I mean, I understand why: he’s Harley. How can you not love him? But I guess she decided they were best friends last year when he was living here and hasn’t looked back since. Every time I’m around, all she talks about is Harley. She once asked me to braid her hair just like Harley does. It did not end well. There were lots of tangles and no braids. Harley came home and fixed it before either of us could properly freak out about it, but I still don’t think she’s forgiven me. “Yeah, he is! I can’t believe your up this early to watch it”</p>
<p>Harley’s on one of the morning shows to announce his upcoming tour and quite honestly, I’m barely awake for it. It’s been almost 3 months since his album came out and he’s been working hard to get everything ready for his tour and start rehearsing for it. He’s been crazy busy since he’s putting together a tour in such short notice. I’m excited for him to get to tour and see his fans because I know he loves getting to see them. But boy, am I going to miss him when he’s gone. I’ve gotten so used to him being there all the time. It’s going to be hard to adjust to life without him again. I know I used to live by myself before I met Harley, but now that I know what it’s like to live with him, I don’t want to live without him.</p>
<p>“Well, when daddy told me about it, I decided I didn’t want to miss it.” She tugs on my shirt, pointing at the screen. “Look, Harley’s on!” I look up just in time to see Harley waving at the screen before it goes to commercial. As soon as he’s gone, Morgan lets out a frustrated grunt. “Where’d he go? Is that all? I can go back to bed?”</p>
<p>I can’t help but smile. “No, that wasn’t all. They were just letting us know he’s going to be on when the commercial is over. Do you wanna run into the kitchen and let your mom and dad know he’s going to be on in a minute?”</p>
<p>Morgan jumps off the couch, racing into the other room. I barely have time to take a drink of coffee before she’s sprinting back into the room, Mr. Stark and Pepper trailing behind her. This time when she jumps up onto the couch, I have enough warning so that she doesn’t get anywhere near my coffee. She settles back in next to me, eyes glued to the screen with anticipation of a kid on Christmas morning. I know how she feels. I fill with excitement and pride for Harley every time I see him do something like this. He works so hard on it all. Tony sits on the open cushion next to me and Pepper places a quick kiss to the top of my head before settling into the other sofa. </p>
<p>The sight is something so domestic, so homelike that teenage me never would have imagined I could experience something like it. The Starks took me under their wing in high school and I will forever be grateful for them. As a high schooler who had just lost his uncle and was lost in life, they really helped. I don’t know what I would have done if Mr. Stark hadn’t heard about my independent research in chemistry for AP credit and come knocking on my door. I still don’t know how he heard about it. They gave me something to look forward to, a safe haven away from the struggles of life. My first year here was also my first Christmas without Ben and they invited me and May over for Christmas dinner. We’ve been coming ever since. May and I used to come over all the time for dinners when I was in high school. Now, I’m over here all the time for work and May comes over sometimes just to hang out with Pepper. It’s been my second home for years now. </p>
<p>Morgan yanks on my sleeve again as Harley pops up on the tv. He has on one of his flower print shirts and a pair of black leggings. I swear that man owns more flower print shirts than he knows what to do with. “Look there he is again!”</p>
<p>She curls in closer to me as the news anchor on the screen starts talking to Harley. “Good morning Harley. Congratulations on the success of your album.”</p>
<p>“Thank you! It’s been great to see people relate to the music. I was writing about really personal things and I didn’t think anyone would be able to relate to it. But I’ve gotten so many messages from people telling me how much they see themselves in one of the songs or that I wrote about a feeling they didn’t know how to articulate but that they heard my song they knew thats what they were feeling. I’m just grateful to still be able to write music that’s relatable and that people enjoy.”</p>
<p>She nods like she’s listening, but as soon as he’s done talking, she moves on. “Okay, before we get to the announcement you’re here to make, we thought we’d ask you a few questions from your fans, if thats all right?”</p>
<p>Harley smiles. “Wonderful!”</p>
<p>The anchor pulls up some cards and asks the first question. “I think I’ll start with the most obvious question, the one everyone wants to know about: How do you know Tony Stark?”</p>
<p>I watch as Harley takes a sip of whatever is in his mug, probably deciding how he wants to answer this. People have not stopped talking and gossiping about this since they found out they knew each other. There’s been rumors about them, but no one has been able to confirm it since Harley and Mr. Stark have kept quiet about it. Until last month anyway. Harley took Morgan to a concert of some boy band she really likes and that Harley somehow knows and the internet freaked out about it. “It’s really not that interesting of a story.” Harley shrugs. “He was driving through Tennessee years ago, when I was still a young kid, when his car broke down. My ma and I picked him up on the side of the rode and he stayed with us while I helped him fix his car. After he left, we stayed in touch.”</p>
<p>“If you’ve known each other for so long, why keep it a secret?”</p>
<p>“We didn’t really keep it a secret on purpose. Once I started to get famous, there was little time for us to actually meet up in person until last year.”</p>
<p>The anchor nods her head, like she’s satisfied with his answer. “Okay, next question: what was it like to play the songs off your last album for your boyfriend?”</p>
<p>Harley smiles and it’s a soft one. One that tells me he’s reminiscing on it all. “It was great. You know, I wanted him to hear them all before I released them. I wanted to ask his permission to release them. Which was a bit of a new thing for me. It was the first time I’ve really had to do that before. I’ve never had to worry about my music really impacting someone else’s life like that before. So, yeah, it was really a great experience, one I’d very much like to have with the next album.”</p>
<p>“And what would you have done if he would have asked you not to release them?”</p>
<p>Harley shifts in his seat, glancing down at his hands before he answers. “I wouldn’t have released them. He lives a life so different from mine and I don’t want to risk ruining it. I know my songs put at risk his chance at a normal life and if he didn’t want that, then I wouldn’t have released them. I know he would never ask me to, but I would quit if it meant he could have a normal life. So, no I wouldn’t have released them and if there are any songs in the future he doesn’t want me to release, then I won’t.”</p>
<p>“Alright, that brings us to our final question: Who is your boyfriend, Harley?”</p>
<p>Harley laughs. “That’s a good question, but I don’t think I’ll answer it. I know we can’t keep it a secret forever, that one day everyone will know and we want people to, but for now, we’re just enjoying the quiet, privacy before everyone decides to have an opinion over our relationship.”</p>
<p>After that, they talk about his tour, the dates, what people can expect, who’s opening, all the details I’ve heard a billion times. I don’t really listen to it, I can’t stop thinking about what Harley said, that he would quit music if I asked him to, that he wouldn’t release a song if I didn’t want him to. Would he really do that? He’s right, though, I would never ask him to quit. I just, I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about it. I don’t want Harley to hold himself back because of me. </p>
<p>I don’t get much time to decide on how I feel about it because as soon as Harley’s off the tv, Morgan’s pulling me off the couch and toward her room. I spend the rest of my day playing dress up and having a tea party. It’s hard to focus on everything Harley said this morning when there’s a seven year old shoving a tiara onto your head, pulling out all your hair while she does. So, I let myself forget about it, I tuck it away for later, when I can properly talk to Harley about it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tell me, can we stay right here and never leave?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’ve just sat down with a cup of coffee when I hear the front door open. Harley must be home. He had a day full of rehearsals and meetings after his appearance on the news this morning and I’ve been waiting on him since I got home from Mr. Stark’s. I was in the living room to get some work done, but I don’t even pick it up because I know once he finds me he’s going to talk to me about his day. It’s become a routine of ours. Harley comes home, or I do, and tell the other about our day. It’s a nice way to relax and let the day go.</p>
<p>When he comes into the room, he flops down on the couch and places his head in my lap. Instead of saying anything like I expect, he lets out a big sigh. I guess if he doesn’t want to talk about it then I won’t make him. I run my hands through his hair and he closes his eyes. I can feel him relaxing into the couch with each stroke through his hair. I keep running my hand through his hair, sipping my coffee as I do. I love quiet moments like this, where I get Harley all to myself. Between all of the rehearsals he’s doing and all of my research for work, it doesn’t happen very often. My coffee’s almost gone when I realize that he’s not going to say anything. I drain the last of my coffee before setting it down. Running my hands through his hair a few more times, trying to decide what I want to say. “Hey, Harley, can we talk for a minute?”</p>
<p> He turns his face towards me and presses it into my stomach. “Of course, darlin’. We can always talk, you know that.”</p>
<p>“Okay, um…” Now that I’m trying to have this conversation, I don’t really know what to say or how to say it. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck here.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” His voice is still mumbled from the way it’s pressed into my stomach and I can barely understand him.</p>
<p>I let out a sigh because I don’t know what I’m trying to say. “I just… I don’t want you to think I’m holding you back. I don’t want you to look back in 5, 10 years and think about what could have been if I wasn’t here. I don’t want you to resent me.”</p>
<p>Once I finally get out what I’m trying to say, Harley sits up and turns sideways on the couch so he can look at me. “Is this about what I said this morning in that interview?”</p>
<p>“No. Well, I guess. It just got me thinking. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do something. You said that if I wanted you to stop making music you would, but I don’t want you to think that’s what I want. Because I want you to be happy and making music makes you happy.”</p>
<p>Harley swings a leg over me and settles into my lap, pressing our foreheads together. “And I also said I knew you wouldn’t ask me to quit. And you’re right, making music does make me happy, but you make me happier. I would give it all up and live in a tent in the forest for the rest of my life if it meant I could spend the rest of it with you. So, don’t think for a moment that you’re making me unhappy or that you’re making me stay, okay?”</p>
<p>Letting my hands settle on his hips, I press a quick kiss to his lips. Kissing Harley has never gotten old. They’re like the antidote to any poison. One kiss, one touch from Harley and I know everything is going to be okay because he’s here with me. “Okay.” I kiss him again just because I can before I wrap my arms around him, pulling him in closer. He lets me, resting his head on my shoulder. It’s a bit awkward because he’s a little taller than me, but it’s still nice. “Do you want to talk about your day?”</p>
<p>He lets out a sigh and I feel it brush across my neck. “Can we get some pizza and wine first? If I’m going to talk about it I need some fucking alcohol.”</p>
<p>I let out a laugh and grab Harley’s phone to order some pizza. We don’t move until it arrives, sitting and enjoying a quiet moment just the two of us. I think Harley might have been sleeping, but it was still nice. He doesn’t get enough sleep anyway. When it finally does arrive, Harley goes to the front door to get it and I go to the kitchen for the wine and some glasses. Once we’re settled on the couch and Harley’s halfway through his glass, I say, “Okay, spill. Tell me about your day.”</p>
<p>He takes another bite, probably trying to avoid the question. “Sometimes I feel like I’m an animal in a zoo. Here to be poked and prodded for everyone else’s entertainment. But they’re only here when they think I’m doing something entertaining or they’re off to the next enclosure.” He takes a sip of his wine. I think I understand what he’s talking about. I don’t have experience from being famous, but I see what he goes through, the way people are always looking for gossip. “And I guess sometimes I feel like I’m being stalked, like everyone is looking out for me to do something they think is entertaining so they can exploit me for it. It’s exhausting.”</p>
<p>I place my glass onto the table and curl up against his side, tucking my head under his chin. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help you. I wish they would leave you alone.”</p>
<p>“You do help me. Every day I come home and your here, it helps.” He places a kiss to my hair and I smile because I love him so much. </p>
<p>“Did something in particular make you feel like that today?”</p>
<p>He hums and I feel it reverberate through his chest. “I guess. People keep asking me about you, who you are. There was even a short discussion today at one of my meetings about it. Someone suggested me letting it out who I was dating, so people would start talking about it and increase sales for tour. I shut that shit down real fast because I am not going to use you for something like that. Ever. And we don’t need the sales boost, most of my shows are sold out anyway. And even if they weren’t I still wouldn’t have done it. It’s not that I don’t want people to know about you, because believe me, I do. But I am really enjoying having you all to myself right now. Once people find out, they’re going to be chasing us. It’ll be like a game of foxes and hunters and I think we all know how that turns out for the foxes.”</p>
<p>I press myself closer into his side, trying to show him that I’m not going anywhere. “I think it was shitty of them to even talk about that. But I’m not going to let this end like that. I’m here no matter what, okay? If that means I’ll spend the rest of my life being chased then so be it. We’re a couple of smart foxes, we’ll figure it out. Just know that I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he lets out a huge yawn. </p>
<p>“How romantic.” I hear him chuckle as I stand up, pulling him with me. “Let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a long day.”</p>
<p>I wake up in the morning to Harley’s fingers lightly tracing up my spine and close my eyes again, enjoying the feeling. This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up like this and I think it’s my favorite way to wake up in the morning. I once asked him why he does it and he told me he was tracing the freckles that run up and down my spine. He said they were more beautiful than the stars and I laughed and told him that wasn’t true. I roll over and drape myself across him. “Morning.”</p>
<p>He wraps his arms around me, letting out a little laugh at how raspy my voice sounded. “Morning, love.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, pulling me in tighter. “I was thinking.”</p>
<p>“It’s too early to think.” I don’t really know what time it is, I just know I haven’t woken up enough to think about anything. “No thinking is allowed until we’ve had some coffee.”</p>
<p>“Ah, but I’ve done it anyway.” I just grunt in response. “Come with me.”</p>
<p>I scrunch up my nose. “Come with you? I thought you had today off, where are you going?”</p>
<p>	“No, I meant come with me on tour.”</p>
<p>That wakes me up and I push up so I can look at him, see if he’s serious. “Harley… you know I would if I could. But I’ve hit a breakthrough with my research and I really need to be here working on it.”</p>
<p> He lets out a sigh. I think he already knew that was going to be the answer. He pulls me back down. We roll over so we’re on our sides, facing each other and he brushes a hand across my cheek. “I know. I wish it could be different. There’s only a couple weeks until I leave and it keeps getting closer. I feel like time is chasing after us and eventually we’re going to get caught. All I want to do is lie here next to you, talking. I want to kiss all the freckles on your spine and wake up every morning next to you. But time isn’t on our side and I have to leave for a while. And I don’t know… I feel like time is counting down to something.” He brushes a hair out of my face before he finishes his thought. “We’re not counting down to something are we?”</p>
<p>Is he asking if I’m going to break up with him when he leaves? I rub at my eyes, trying to force myself to be awake enough to have this conversation, to make sure I say what I mean. He’s clearly been thinking about this a long time and I don’t want to say something stupid because I was still half asleep. Once I feel like I’m awake and have had a coherent thought, I press closer to him. “No, we’re not counting down to anything, Harls. If you’re trying to ask if I’m going to break up with you, the answer is no. Of course things are going to be different when you’re on tour. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be real. We’ll do everything we have to, okay? We’ll talk on the phone every day, we’ll text, video chat. And I’ll come visit you as much as I can. Whatever it takes. Because I love you and that’s the most important thing.”</p>
<p>He wraps his arms around me and pulls me as close as he can, pulling me into a hug. “Okay. I was just scared I guess.”</p>
<p>I press a kiss to his shoulder. “Change can be scary. I’m scared a little bit too. But that’s okay. Sometimes we have to do things that make us afraid, but it’ll be worth it because we get something amazing on the other side of it. We get to come back to this, to a life together. We’ll be afraid together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title from Time Is Not On Our Side by The Vamps</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. People started talking, putting us through our paces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I toss my last shirt out of the closet and onto the bed. I need to leave in 20 minutes for a meeting about the research I’ve been doing and I can’t find a single nice shirt in my closet. I know I used to have at least one, but I can’t find it. I mean, maybe it got lost when I moved in with Harley. But I’m pretty sure I’ve worn it since I moved in here. I rush out of my room and down the stairs, jumping down the last few of them as I call out. “Harley! I can’t find my shirt!” I skid into the living room on my socked feet, nearly falling over the couch in my rush. “I have a meeting with Mr. Stark and some investors and I can’t find my nice shirt. I swear if you threw it away I’m going to kill you. It only had one whole in it and—” I stop as soon as my brain catches up to me and I realize that Harley had been talking when I barged in here. Now, I actually take a look at the scene before me and realize I’ve messed up. Harley’s sitting on the couch, his phone held up in front of his face and I can see comments scrolling across his screen. “Uh… you’re live streaming aren’t you?” </p>
<p>I edge out of the screen because I’m fully aware of the fact that I don’t have on a shirt and that rumors are now going to fly about the two of us. Harley’s been doing a weekly live stream, every Friday to talk to his fans around this time. I should have thought about it, should have remembered, but I was too busy freaking out about my meeting to think about it. Harley looks back at me and I think he sees the panic on my face because he gives me a soft, reassuring look. “Yeah, but I’ll be done in a minute. I was just finishing up anyway.” He looks at me a moment longer, trying to tell me it’s going to be okay without actually saying it. “And I didn’t throw your shirt away. Maybe the dryer did you a favor and ate it.”</p>
<p> “Harley!”</p>
<p> “Okay, okay. I’ll come help you look for it. Just give me a moment.” </p>
<p>And with that I’m off up the stairs, this time to tear through Harley’s closet. I look through it without seeing much, I can’t stop thinking about what I’ve done. What did Harley tell his live stream about me? About us? I push past another shirt, seeing another floral print and give up right then and there. Harley owns too many printed shirts for his own good. If my plain white one was in here, I think I would probably see it right away. I turn around to go back to my closet to see Harley leaning against the doorway to the closet. “How long have you been there?” </p>
<p> “Long enough to watch you have a mental break about the type of shirts I own.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t… I was not…” I let out a huff because we both know he’s right.</p>
<p>“Here.” He walks into the closet and straight to a section of shirts that are all plain that I totally missed in my frenzy. He pulls down a plain white one and hands it to me. “Take this one. It might be a little big on you but it will work.”</p>
<p>I take it, throwing it on and tucking it into my dress pants. Once I’ve finished, I do a quick spin. “How do I look?”</p>
<p>He grabs me when I finish my spin, pulling me into a kiss. “You look great. They’re going to want to give you all their money. Especially when they find out what you’re working on.” I bite my lip, unconvinced. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. You’re going to do great.” He pushes me back a bit and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door. “Now, let’s get you out the door so you aren’t late for your meeting.”</p>
<p>I stop him once we reach the back door, pulling him in to another quick kiss. “And we’ll talk about me dropping by your livestream when I get home?”</p>
<p>He nods. “Yeah. I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.” And with that I’m being shoved out one door and into the waiting jaws of the car. I shove everything that happened in the last 20 minutes into a drawer, locking it closed. I need to focus on my meeting right now.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> ***********</p>
</div><p>Happy drives me home after my meeting is over. I think it went okay. I’ve been working on a new environmentally friendly chemical that will breakdown plastics and allow it to easily be remade into something else. The investors seemed interested, even if they were skeptical of it actually working. Hopefully they’ll want to invest, so I can keep working on it. Mr. Stark seemed to think they would. He said they should do just on the merit of my work, but if anything they’ll do it because it looks good to be invested in environmental research. It feels kind of shitty that they won’t invest because of the material of my research, but because it will make them look good. In the end, funding is funding though, so as long as I get it, I guess it doesn’t matter. </p>
<p>I pull out my phone to look at the notifications of it on the drive, trying not to think about it. There’s a bunch of texts in my group chat with Ned and MJ about me being in Harley’s live stream and a couple from May. I scroll through the ones from Ned and MJ. They start out joking, making fun of me for being so chaotic. Which is fair. After that they’re talking about the media and how much they hate it. I debate whether or not to try and figure out what they’re talking about before I open up Google and search Harley. All the articles that pop up are about me. Well, they’re about Harley, but they’re all trying to figure out who I am and how I know Harley and Mr. Stark, if Harley and I are dating, why I was at his home. I see a few saying I’m making Harley quit music and that I don’t deserve him. It’s a vortex I don’t want to be sucked into, so I close out of it and send a quick text to the group to let them know I’m doing fine. I spend the rest of the drive staring out the window, spiraling further and further through my thoughts.</p>
<p> Harley’s waiting for me when I walk through the door. “How’d it go?”</p>
<p>I give him a quick kiss before taking off my shoes. “It went fine, I think. I hope they’ll invest, but I’m not sure. They seemed a bit hesitant about it, but Mr. Stark thinks they’ll do it to look good.” I shrug. “Which is fine, but I kind of wanted them to invest because they thought it was worth investing in, not because it was a box they needed to check off.”</p>
<p> Harley pulls me into the living room, handing me a glass of wine as he does. “The most important thing is that you get your funding, right? I mean, it’s shitty they aren’t taking these things seriously, but you’ll prove them wrong. I know you will. Once you finish developing this, everyone will want to give you money for the next thing.” He wraps an arm around me and kisses my cheek. “You’re going to change the world.”</p>
<p>“Mmhm. I don’t know about that.” I untangle from him and pull him onto the couch because there’s a conversation we need to have. “Harley, we need to talk.”</p>
<p> “I know.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry about walking in on your livestream earlier. I wasn’t thinking about it because I was so worried about my meeting that I forgot. Which isn’t an excuse, because I should have remembered and I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”</p>
<p> “Well, what do you want to do about it?”</p>
<p> He shrugs like he hasn’t been thinking about it for hours and hours. I know I’ve been trying to figure out if we should tell people we’re dating or not say anything at all. This is all so new to me, I don’t know anything about this world and it’s overwhelming to think about. “I haven’t really thought about it. I was mostly worried about you, how you were handling it. I know it can be overwhelming.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought about how I’m feeling. I’ve been trying not to feel anything all day, focused on just getting through the last couple of hours. Now that I’m thinking about it, the weight of everything begins to sink on my shoulders. “I… I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of overwhelming. This morning when I woke up I was a nobody. No one knew who I was, no one knew who I was dating, or cared where I lived. Now there are articles all over the internet about me. And you. And us, what me being here this morning meant. It’s a lot to process.”</p>
<p>He slides closer to me on the couch, grabbing my free hand and intertwining our fingers. “I know. And if it’s not what you want, I’ll understand.”</p>
<p>I pull back from him, so I can look at his face. Is he serious? “What? No, I— I didn’t say that. Harley, I told you I didn’t care if people know we’re dating. Why do you always assume I’m going to leave you when things look like they’re going to get hard? I told you I was here for the long haul and I meant it.” He shrugs, but won’t look at me. I pull on his shirt sleeve to get him to look at me and he does. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“I always think you’re going to leave because it’s all I’ve ever known, even when I was a kid. And every relationship I’ve been in has ended with someone leaving me. Most of the time it’s because they read all of the gossip magazines and they believe everything they see. Or they can’t handle the scrutiny I’m under. I live in a fish bowl and people are always tapping on the glass. It’s always too much for people.” I don’t say anything when he pauses because I don’t think he’s done talking. He’s set his wine glass down and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt, not looking at me again. “I’m just afraid I’m not enough for you, that I’m not worth all the hassle.”</p>
<p> I pull him in again, tucking him against my side. “Of course you’re enough for me. I love you. I will always love you. Nothing else matters. We could be living in cardboard boxes and I would be happy as long as you were with me. I don’t care what anyone else has to say, as long as we’re happy, that’s what matters.”</p>
<p>“I love you too. So much. What did I ever do to deserve someone as perfect as you?”</p>
<p> I let out a little laugh. “I don’t know, I’m a saint.” He pinches my side and I laugh again. And suddenly I think everything’s going to be okay. I’m here, Harley’s here, we’re together and that’s what matters. “What did you do while I was gone anyway?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I was worried about you and I couldn’t talk to you about it, so I did what I do best and worked on some music. Wrote a little bit of a song I was already writing and started writing a new one.” He shrugs.</p>
<p>“Do you want to share with the class?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know if you want to hear them. I’m not sure they’ll ever make it to an album, but I was trying to process everything.”</p>
<p>I pull him in a little tighter. “Of course I want to hear them. I love listening to everything you write.”</p>
<p>He gets up and grabs a notebook off the piano before settling next to me again. “I’ve only written words for the one I was working on this morning because I didn’t really feel like playing music, but you can read them if you want.”</p>
<p>I grab the notebook from him and look over what he’s written. There’s a lot of things written and scratched out and rewritten, but there is a little verse that hasn’t been rewritten:</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> <i>I loved you in spite of<br/>
Deep fears that the world would divide us<br/>
So, baby, can we dance<br/>
Oh, through an avalanche?<br/>
And say, say that we got it<br/>
I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted<br/>
Oh, 'cause it's gravity<br/>
Oh, keeping you with me<br/>
I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets<br/>
Picture of your face in an invisible locket<br/>
You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it<br/>
I had a bad feeling</i></p>
</div><p>The song has a longing in it. It reminds me a bit of how I felt this morning, worried that everyone talking about us was going to ruin us, that we were fighting the inevitable. I don’t feel like that anymore and I don’t think Harley does either, but I still pull him a little closer, touch him a little softer. I try to say I love you, I’m here to stay with everything I do, everything I am. “I love you, Harley.”</p>
<p>He turns his head and places a kiss to my jaw. “I love you too.”</p>
<p> I reach forward, careful not to jostle him too much, and set my wine glass down. I haven’t drank any of it. I think I was holding on to it more for moral support than anything. “So, what do you want to do?”</p>
<p>He sits up a bit so he can properly look at me. “I kind of want to tell everyone so they can stop talking about us.”</p>
<p> I nod. “Okay. But I don’t think it’s going to mean people stop talking about us.”</p>
<p> “I know, wishful thinking. But at least they’ll stop calling you my housemaid.”</p>
<p> I lightly smack his arm. “They have not!”</p>
<p> He laughs and it’s a nice sound to hear from him. “They have too.”</p>
<p> I roll my eyes. “Alright, how do you want to break the internet?”</p>
<p>We decide to just post a picture. It’s just me kissing his cheek while he’s laughing. We post the picture and let the world figure it out from there. After that, we set our phones aside and sped the rest of the day curled up on the couch watching Netflix and ignoring the outside world. I think I could spend the rest of my life curled up on this couch with Harley and die a happy man. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title and lyrics are from Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Say you’ll See me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> It’s been almost a week since I accidentally walked into Harley’s livestream, but nothing much has changed. I mean, people talk about us more on the internet, people actually know who I am now. But I still don’t pay attention to any of it, so nothing has really changed for me. The only change that’s really impacted me is that I come and go through the front door now, instead of the back. Sometimes there’s paparazzi out there trying to get a photo of me, but I don’t mind. It’s nice not to be a secret anymore, to not have to hide behind smoke and mirrors, sneaking around.</p><p>I don’t think Harley’s really been paying attention to it either. We’ve been too busy spending all of our free time with each other, making sure we get all the time together as we can before he has to leave. He leaves tomorrow morning and I already miss him. Although, I have to admit, I’m not going to miss helping him pack. We’ve been at it for hours now and I don’t think we’re any closer to finishing. “You know you’ve had months to prepare? Why did you wait until the day before to pack?”</p><p> He tosses a shirt at me and it hits me in the face. “Because you were distracting me.”</p><p> I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “I can do some more distracting.” He laughs and places a shirt in his suitcase. I rush over and grab it out. “You can’t take that one.” It’s one of his old high school shirts and it’s old and barely holding together. It’s really comfortable and I want to keep it to remind me of Harley. </p><p>He grabs it back and holds it up, inspecting it. “Why not?”</p><p>“Because I want it.”</p><p> He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Darlin’, there’s stains on it and it’s almost 10 years old now. Out of all the shirts I own, you want that one?”</p><p> I snatch it back and toss it over my shoulder. “Yup.” I pop the p for emphasis. </p><p>He doesn’t argue with me after that. We finish packing, staying up way later than we should since he has to get up early in the morning. I try not to think of him leaving in the morning, but it’s hard when I’m helping him pack. I wish I could hold him close and never let him go. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>***********</p>
</div><p>Harley’s been gone for a month now. And I miss him more than I ever could have imagined. I miss waking up next to him, coming home to him. I miss his smile, the way he talks to me nonstop when I get home from work, like we haven’t seen each other in years. I miss his steady presence. Home feels empty without him. Not that we don’t talk, we’ve been video chatting almost everyday, but it’s not the same as if he was here with me. I spent a few days last week with him in Australia. We had so much fun. We spent the days exploring, the nights entangled in each other. I got to go to two of his shows, which are amazing. He posted photos of us on the beach, exploring the city. They were really cute, I set one of them as the background to my phone. Every time I look at it, I’m reminded of how much fun I had, how much I love Harley. We had such a short time together before he had to move on to his next stop and I had to be home, that sometimes it feels like it never happened. But I’ve got the photos and the sunburn to remind me. </p><p>I’m grateful for the time we had together, but I still can’t stop myself from wanting more. I should call him before my lunch is over. I can’t remember where he’s supposed to be today. Is it London or Tokyo? I rub at my forehead. I’ll just call him and hope I don’t wake him up. When I pull up his contact, I decide to make it a video chat because I really want to see his face. He picks up almost instantly and a weight leaves my shoulders. It’s clearly late where he is, must be in Tokyo then. He’s laying in bed, the only light coming from his phone screen. “Hey.”</p><p>“I didn’t wake you up did I?” I suddenly feel foolish for calling, I know he doesn’t get a lot of sleep. I should have made sure I knew what city he was in before I called.</p><p>“No, I was awake, couldn’t sleep.”</p><p> “Is everything okay?”</p><p>He lets out a sigh and rolls over. “I miss you so much. Like, I know we just saw each other last week, but I still miss you.”</p><p> “I know, I miss you too.” I really wish he was here with me right now. “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever is keeping you awake?”</p><p> “Well, with the chance of sounding ridiculous, I was thinking about you. The fact that you love me without wanting anything from me. Most of the people around me want something from me. I mean not all of them, I have some friends, but it’s exhausting to try and figure out who’s who.” I watch as he runs a hand through his hair. I can see he still has more to say, so I just let him think about it without interrupting him. “Can I say something else ridiculous?”</p><p>I nod. “Always.”</p><p> “Okay, don’t laugh at me, but I really miss your freckles.” I try, but I can’t help the little laugh that escapes me. “Hey, I said not to laugh.”</p><p> “I know, but it surprised me, that’s all.” He flashes me a sheepish smile and I swear it makes the world stop. “It’s so random. Why my freckles?”</p><p>“They’re cute and they’re attached to you. I miss being able to run my fingers over them every morning to wake you up. I miss being able to paint a picture across your skin, connecting each one with a kiss. God, if you were here right now, I’d-”</p><p> “Harls, I love you, but I’m at work right now. So please don’t finish that thought.”</p><p> I watch his cheeks stain pink. “Right. Sorry. Talk to me until I fall asleep? Tell me about what your working on.”</p><p>So, I do. Even though I know he has no idea what I’m talking about, doesn’t understand my work, I still tell him about it. I talk about the trouble I’m having, what I’m going to try next, the new people who are interested in it. I talk until I hear his breathing deepen and even out before I go back to work, content knowing Harley is somewhere getting some much needed sleep. 
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>***********</p>
</div><p>Harley’s been on tour for 3 months now. It’s been getting harder and harder on us. He’s busy with his shows and making a new music video and on top of it all, he says he’s been writing some new music. I’ve been busy with my work. I finally hit a breakthrough and we’ve started working on trials to see if it will be usable. Between it all we haven’t had a lot of time for each other. It’s frustrating. Every time I call him he’s busy and every time he calls me I’m busy. We haven’t talked on the phone in weeks. Neither one of us can seem to call at the right time. </p><p> I try to focus on what I’m working on, but it’s hard. I’m really just trying to pass the time until Mr. Stark is ready to go. We’ve got another meeting with investors today. And between that and Harley, I can’t focus on anything. Just as I’m about to give up, my phone rings giving me an excuse to quit working anyway. I see it’s Harley, so I pick up straight away. “Hey!”</p><p> “Hey, darlin’. Are you free?”</p><p> “Uh…” I look at the clock to see what time it is. “I’ve got a few minutes, what’s up?”</p><p> He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Of course not. What are you doing?”</p><p> I understand his frustration, but I don’t know why he’s so frustrated with me. I can’t control when he’s going to call and I’m not going to sit around and wait for him to call me. I have my own life. “I have a meeting with investors.” </p><p> “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”</p><p>“Harley, we haven’t exactly talked in the last month, have we?”</p><p>“And what, you’re saying that’s my fault?”</p><p>“No, that’s not what I said.” How did this conversation get off track so quickly? “I was just-”</p><p> “Hey, kid. You ready to go?”</p><p>I look up to see Mr. Stark and let out a sigh. “Yeah just give me a minute. Harley, I have to go.”</p><p>He lets out a derisive laugh. It’s an evil sound and I don’t like it coming from Harley. “of course you do.”</p><p>There’s a silence that settles between us, like neither one of us wants to continue this conversation, but neither of us want it to end either. “Harley? I love you.”</p><p> The sigh on the other end of the phone is soft. “I love you too. And I miss you.”</p><p> “Talk to you later?”</p><p>“Of course, Darlin.” I hang up the phone after that, turning to Mr. Stark, trying to get ready for my meeting. Unfortunately, conversations with Harley have been like this more than I’d like them to be and I don’t know how to fix it. I’ve been too afraid to tell him that I feel like I’ve been left behind. He’s shooting for the stars, doing these amazing things and I’m just dragging him backwards. I don’t want to ask for his attention, I don’t want to be another person vying for his attention. But I can feel Harley slipping through my hands like sand through an hour glass and the harder I try to hold on, the faster he slips through my fingers.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>***********</p>
</div><p>It’s been a week since I last talked to Harley. The last time we talked was right after my meeting with investors. It was nice to talk to him. He told me about everything he’s working on and how he’s enjoying his shows. I told him about all of my work and how well it’s going. It was really great. It was nice to have a conversation with Harley like we used to. We actually got a couple hours of conversation before we started arguing again. He was supposed to be coming home for a couple of days, but he had to cancel. He had work to do. And I know he has work, just like I do. But it’s still frustrating. I was living for seeing him. I couldn’t wait and then all of a sudden he wasn’t coming. The worse part of the entire conversation was the end. No matter how much we argue we always say I love you before we hang up. It’s been my lifeline through all of this, that no matter how much we argue, we still love each other and we’ll get through it. But this time, he hung up without saying it. It almost felt like the final nail in the coffin. I’ve been too afraid to ask him about it, too afraid to call him. I don’t know what’s going to happen the next time we talk. </p><p>Like a devil conjured by thought, my phone vibrates with a call from Harley. It’s late here, almost 1 am. Harley’s in Europe, so it’s an early morning for him. I pick it up with little hesitation. As much as I was worried about talking to Harley, I want to hear his voice more. “Hey, Harls, what’s up?” I cringe because it sounds a bit awkward, like we’re still getting to know each other, not like we’ve spent over a year together and I hate myself for it.</p><p>“I had a bit of free time and was calling to say hi.” This is a miracle, that we both have free time at the same time. Though to be fair, I should be asleep right now. I think I’d rather talk to Harley than sleep. “What are you up to?”</p><p>“I’m working on revising a report I’m writing about my research for a science journal.”</p><p>“Pete, that’s amazing! I’m proud of you.” I feel myself blush at the praise. “I wish I was there to celebrate with you.”</p><p> “I wish you were here too.” </p><p>We talk about everything and nothing. We talk in soft quiet tones because it’s late here and early there. Harley tells me about the morning show he’s going on, which explains why he’s up. I tell him all about my article, though he doesn’t understand any of it. We talk about his last couple tour stops and his next few. It’s nice to hear his voice, to listen to him talk about writing music, about what he loves. </p><p>Much like all of our conversations, the joy can’t last. As we’re talking about his next few stops, he asks the question that finally breaks the dam. “Hey, I have a few days in France, want to come next weekend and hang out?”</p><p>“Harls, I wish I could, but I have work I have to do here. I’m getting ready for a big presentation. You can come here?”</p><p>He sighs. “I can’t. I have work in France I have to do, but I’ll have some free time we could hang out in.”</p><p> Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Okay. How many months until your US tour starts?”</p><p>“Uh… I have 3 months left here and then I have a couple weeks off.”</p><p> I just want to see Harley. “We’ll figure it out.”</p><p> “I guess.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>I hear him shuffle on the other side of the phone, probably trying to get ready for the morning show. “I just mean, we’ve been saying that for three months now and we haven’t figured it out yet.”</p><p> What am I supposed to say to that? What does he mean? “I’m trying, Harley.”</p><p> “Are you saying that I’m not?” Despite the fact that we’ve argued a lot recently, he’s never sounded this angry before.</p><p>“No, I’m just saying I’m trying my hardest, but we’re never free at the same time.” I can feel tears sting behind my eyes. “We can’t do this anymore. It’s wearing me thin and I know it’s wearing on you too.”</p><p>“What’s <i>that</i> supposed to mean?” I hear someone say something on the other end of the line and Harley tells them he’ll be there in a second. “Do you want to break up?”</p><p>I have no idea where this went so horribly wrong. There is no way I ever want to break up with Harley. Despite everything, I still love him. I just meant that we couldn’t keep going the way we were, that we needed to figure something out. We needed to make sure we made time for each other. Why do my words always get so twisted when I’m talking to him, it’s like I say one thing and he hears another. But maybe he was asking because this is what he wants and he finally found an opening to say it. “Is that what you want?”</p><p>I hear someone else on Harley’s end of the line again and they sound like they’re rushing him. He says something I can’t quite make out. “Pete, I have to go. I’ll call you back later.” </p><p>And with that he hangs up, leaving me stunned in to silence. For the longest time, all I can do is stare at my computer screen, not seeing anything. Did Harley and I just break up? The thought tears me from my trance and I feel a tear slip down my face. It’s the one that breaks the floodgate because after that they come streaming down my face. How did we get here? How did we mess this up so bad? I don’t know what to do, so I call May. I know it’s the middle of the night, but she’ll know what to do. She picks up on the second try and I end up in her living room with a cup of steaming hot chocolate. I tell her everything that’s happened. How Harley’s work and my work was tearing us apart. How I still loved him, but I didn’t know if he still loved me. Just like I knew she would, she calms me down and gives me advice, tells me that if we love each other, it will work out. I end up getting a little sleep on her couch before I go to work. </p><p>May told me Harley would call me back, that he’d want to work this out as much as I do. I believed her. But the next morning, there were no calls. And there were no calls the next day or the one after that or the one after that, until it became obvious that we were no longer together. May lets me move into her apartment until I can find one on my own. I spend a few days packing up and a few nights moving out. Even though I love Harley, if this is what he wants, he can have it. All I want is for him to be happy and if he’s happiest without me, then I will let him go. Harley’s always been worried he’s not enough for me, but I guess in the end I wasn’t enough for him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is from Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Maybe I shoulda loved harder, Checked if you were alright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the first chapter with Harley’s perspective, i hope you like it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a week since I’ve last talked to Peter. The last conversation we had did not go well. I think we might have broken up? I’m not sure and I’m too afraid to call him and ask. He’s been pretty busy lately with his work and I don’t want to bother him any more. I tried to wheedle information out of Tony, but all he did was tell me that Peter was my boyfriend and if I wanted to talk to him, I should just call him. So, that wasn’t helpful.</p>
<p> “Trisha!” I look around for her. I know she was somewhere around here. I duck my head out of the green room to see if she’s in the hallway. She’s not.</p>
<p>When I turn back around, she’s materialized from somewhere within the rooms under the stage. “Harley, you’re supposed to be on stage in 2 minutes, what are you still doing here?”</p>
<p>“Having a mental break down.” She doesn’t look amused, just quirks an eyebrow at me like I better finish this conversation. “Can you see about booking a flight to New York for this weekend?” </p>
<p>She pulls out her phone, already on it. “Is everything alright?”</p>
<p>“No, I’m losing my fucking mind and I want to go home for a few days.” </p>
<p> “I’ll have them before the concerts over. Now get moving before you make your fans wait any longer.” I leave, bolstered by the fact that I’m going to see Peter in a few days. </p>
<p>Though, in hindsight, I should have known better. My car is pulling up in front of my house when the sinking feeling sets in. The feeling that maybe I’ve miss calculated. There are people with camera’s outside and I try to look pleasant enough when I step out of the car, though it’s hard when I’m having a bit of a crisis. If pulling up made me feel like sinking, then stepping into the house makes me feel like I’m being pulled down by weights, drowning. The house is eerily empty in a way I don’t remember since before Peter lived with me. I walk into the kitchen, confirming my worst nightmares. There’s a house key sitting on the counter.</p>
<p>I rush up the stairs and into Peter’s room. The bed is pristinely made. I swing open the closet and it’s empty. I try not to panic as I do a sweep of the rest of the house. Nothing. There is nothing of Peter’s here. Except for memories, there is nothing to remind me that he is here. I end in my room, standing in front of my bed. I made it before I left, but it’s clearly been slept in since then. Peter must have been sleeping in it. The thought puts a small smile on my face. I fall into it, wrapping myself around a pillow that smells like Peter. And finally, the tears fall. I guess Peter really did want to break up. I guess it’s better this way. I think I was holding him back. He’ll be happier. It doesn’t hurt any less.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> ***********</p>
</div><p>I put my apartment up for sale when I was in New York last, had all of my things moved to my home in Tennessee. I was going to put it up for sale last year before Peter and I moved in. I kept it because it became our home, but it’s no one’s home now. I can’t stay there. Peter’s stuff might not be there, but his ghost still haunts its halls. I never want to see it again, to be reminded of all our memories there. Obviously the media found out about it and now there are rumors about us having broken up that I’m not at all ready to deal with. </p>
<p>2 weeks have passed since Peter and I broke up, but it’s mostly passed in a blur of shows, plane rides, and sleepless nights. I think Trisha sees that I’m barely holding together, one wrong word away from cracking like melon under pressure. She’s been going easy on me, making sure everyone gives me space. I think she knows I’ve cried myself to sleep almost every night, but that’s not a conversation I’m willing to have. </p>
<p>I hear someone rap on the door behind me and find Trisha there. She’s literally the only reason I’m still functioning. That and I’m a stubborn shit that refuses to cancel any shows, even if I’ve only slept about 4 hours in the past 5 days. Trisha says I’m going to end up in the hospital, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge if we get there. “Hey, they’re ready to start the show.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll be ready in a minute.” I wipe at my face, trying to get myself in check, in a mood to do this show. </p>
<p> “Harley, you don’t have to keep doing shows. People will understand if you need to take a break. You’re going through something really hard.”</p>
<p>I stand up, shoving past her. “I’m fine, Trish. These people paid to see me, so they’re going to see me.” </p>
<p>She follows me to the stage. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it. And you should talk about it. You can’t just bottle all these things up or one day you’re going to explode.”</p>
<p>And with that I take a microphone and I’m up on stage. I will blame what I do next on being emotionally unstable, because it probably wasn’t a good choice. Later on in the show, I’m sitting at my piano, staring out at the thousands of people here to see me and it strikes me that I’m not being honest with them. Before I play the next song, I stop and start talking to the audience. “Can we take a second to talk?” I can hear people in my head piece going crazy as I switch gears of the concert without telling anyone. I’ll apologize later. “I’m about to piss some people off right now because I’m changing up the concert in the middle, but I need to chat with y’all. I haven’t really been completely honest with you recently. My life has been a shitshow these last few weeks. I’m being held together with elmers glue and duct tape and I wanted to be honest and share that with you.” The crowd has gotten really quiet, like they’re actually listening to me, like they actually care. “Some things have changed in my life recently and I don’t have anyone to really talk to about it. But I have you, so thank you for listening to me ramble. You’re the only reason I’m still functioning. Sometimes things change in life and we don’t want them to, but whether we want them to or not, we have to accept that they have and learn to live with our new life.” I start to play a few keys on the piano, a tune to a song I know they haven’t heard. “I have been writing some new music. Though to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to ever release it. I thought I could share it with you though. So, if you bear with me, I’ll play a little bit of a song I wrote last night.” The crowd goes wild and I take that as a yes and start playing a bit of a new song. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>“So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep<br/>
And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe<br/>
And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are<br/>
Hope it's nice where you are<br/>
And I hope the sun shines<br/>
And it's a beautiful day<br/>
And something reminds you<br/>
You wish you had stayed<br/>
You can plan for a change in weather and time<br/>
But I never planned on you changing your mind<br/>
So I'll go sit on the floor<br/>
Wearing your clothes<br/>
All that I know is that<br/>
I don't know how to be something you miss<br/>
Never thought we'd have a last kiss<br/>
Never imagined we'd end like this<br/>
Your name, forever the name on my lips”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>As soon as I finish playing the last bit of it, the crowd cheers again and though I feel a tear slip down my cheek, I can’t help but smile.They have really been through a lot with me. And I know they can’t really talk back to me, but it’s still therapeutic to talk to them, to someone I know is listening, the way Peter used to listen to me talk. “Alright, how about I play one more?” The crowd goes wild again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sound of thousands of voices cheering. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to<br/>
This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you<br/>
Now, I need somebody to know<br/>
Somebody to heal<br/>
Somebody to have<br/>
Just to know how it feels<br/>
It's easy to say but it's never the same<br/>
I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape<br/>
Now the day bleeds<br/>
Into nightfall<br/>
And you're not here<br/>
To get me through it all<br/>
I let my guard down<br/>
And then you pulled the rug<br/>
I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved<br/>
And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes<br/>
I fall into your arms<br/>
I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>Once I’m done, I stare out at the crowd, at everyone cheering and enjoying themselves for a minute, just taking it all in. I haven’t done that in a while and it’s nice to sit back and just be here. “Alright, let’s get this concert back on track before someone comes out here and kicks my ass for going off script.”</p>
<p> Once the concert is over, I walk off stage to a shit storm and I’m being bombarded from all sides. The people running the concert are pissed I changed things up, someone else is mad at me for making the concert longer than it should be, and someone else is yelling at me about keeping up public appearances or something like that. It might be crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I feel calm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from Missing You by The Vamps<br/>And the lyrics are from:<br/>Last Kiss by Taylor Swift<br/>Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Does he love like I do?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been 2 months since Peter and I broke up and I’m still struggling to understand it, to figure out where it all went wrong. He seems happy though and I’m happy for him. The article he told me about finally got published and it got a lot of attention. He’s become a bit of a celebrity himself. Shows have been asking him to come on and talk about his work. Though, I think it’s just a way to get the next internet sensation on their show, get the views of his fangirls. Because he does have a lot of fangirls invested in his life. Knowing how smart Peter is, he knows what they’re doing, but is using it to spread awareness about the environment and the importance of his research. That’s just the type of person he is. He’s literally the best person I have ever met. </p><p>I’m not going to say that it doesn’t hurt, because it does, it hurts a lot. I see his face all over social media, the news. Everywhere I look I see him and each time hurts just as bad as the last time. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I search his name to find news about him. I want to make sure he’s happy, that he’s doing good. I looked him up last night and I shouldn’t have. I guess he’s started seeing someone new. It hurt a lot worse than it probably should have. I’ve spent all day thinking about it. Was it easy to replace me? Does he miss me at all? Even a fraction of the amount I miss him? </p><p>I spent all night looking into who Harry Osborn is and it did nothing to ease my mind. He and Peter went to the same college, they both majored in similar things. He’s just as smart as Peter is. He must love talking to someone who understands his work, who he can have an intelligent conversation with. Each new article I click on is like a new blow, but I can’t help but clicking on them anyway. Just seeing photos of Peter hurts, but learning that he’s with someone who makes him happier than I could have hurts even worse. </p><p>“Harley.” I nearly jump out of my skin, so enthralled in the articles on my phone to remember where I am, that I’m about to go up on stage. I look up and see that Trisha’s standing in the doorway. “Are you ready?”</p><p> “Yeah.” I shut my phone and set it on the couch next to me. “Do you think he’s happy?”</p><p>She doesn’t have to ask who I’m talking about. We’ve had this conversation enough times that she already knows. “I don’t know, honey. You should know more than anyone that not everything you see in the media is true. Just because he looks happy, doesn’t mean he is.” She moves over to sit next to me. I know she’s right, but I still can’t help but wonder. “If he’s moving on, maybe you should try to do the same.” </p><p>I let my head fall into my hands and I feel her rubbing circles on my back. I know she’s right, but I love Peter and I’m never going to stop. How do I just move on? How is he fine, how does he move on like we never dated? “I don’t how, Trish.”</p><p>“I know, sweetie. It’s hard, but you can do it. Or talk to him.”</p><p>It’s not the first time she’s suggested I talk to him. It’s been long enough now that it would be awkward. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Call him up and be like I know we haven’t talked in 2 and a half months, but do you miss me? Do you wake up every morning and reach for me like I do you? I get up without answering her and grab my bottle of water to take with me. I stop at the door and turn back to look at her. “Can you let everyone know I’m going to be doing some extra songs tonight? Same spot as last time.” I walk out to the sound of her exasperated sigh. I’ve done this twice now. The first time I really pissed people off, but the second time I gave them a little bit of notice, so they weren’t quite as mad. Each time it’s set the media into chaos. There’s always articles and theories that come from it, but I don’t really care anymore. Peter taught me long ago to do what I think is right and tell everyone else to fuck off. </p><p>I’m halfway through my set now, sitting at a piano. “Hey guys. Can I maybe play some songs that aren’t on the track list for tonight?” The crowd goes wild again. I think they know it means I’m going to play new music. “I couldn’t sleep last night because I had an idea for this song in my head. I hope y’all like it.” Looking out at everyone is a sight of wonders. Seeing thousands and thousands of people here to listen to my music, to hear the words I wrote. If I can have a positive impact and help just one person that listens to my music, it all would have been worth it. I start playing some notes and they quiet down to listen. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>“Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?<br/>
When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?<br/>
Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?<br/>
If what we had was real, how could you be fine?<br/>
'Cause I'm not fine at all<br/>
I remember the day you told me you were leaving<br/>
I remember the make-up running down your face<br/>
And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them<br/>
Like every single wish we ever made<br/>
I wish that I could wake up with amnesia<br/>
And forget about the stupid little things<br/>
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you<br/>
And the memories I never can escape<br/>
'Cause I'm not fine at all<br/>
The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone<br/>
I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone<br/>
And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around<br/>
It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on<br/>
It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long<br/>
It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?<br/>
If what we had was real, how could you be fine?”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>The crowd claps when I’m done, cheering and shouting. “Alright, how about one more before we get back in to things?” </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>“I remember the freckles on your back<br/>
And the way that I used to make you laugh<br/>
'Cause you know every morning I wake up<br/>
Yeah I still reach for you<br/>
I remember the roses on your shirt<br/>
When you told me this would never work<br/>
You know even when I say I've moved on<br/>
Yeah I still dream for you<br/>
No matter where I go, I'm always gonna want you back<br/>
No matter how long you're gone, I'm always gonna want you back<br/>
I know you know I will never get over you<br/>
No matter where I go, I'm always gonna want you back<br/>
Want you back”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>I know there’s probably going to be hell to pay tomorrow and in every future interview I do, but it’s cathartic to write these, to sing them. If Peter sees them, he hasn’t reached out, hasn’t said anything about them. Knowing him, he hasn’t heard them. He always has his head buried in living, not paying attention to what society is talking about. It’s one of the things I love about him.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title from Same To You by The Vamps<br/>Lyrics are from:<br/>Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer<br/>Want You Back by 5 Seconds of Summer</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. And he might help me forget, but loving him is something I could never do, Because I had you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m woken up by something jumping on my bed and for a second I think it’s a dog. Which doesn’t make any sense because I don’t own a dog. Then  there’s a hand shaking my shoulder. I bury deeper into my blankets. “Harley, it’s too early.” </p>
<p>My eyes shoot open and I turn around to see Harry sitting on the bed next to me. He looks about as confused as I am panicked. I watch as his eyebrows draw together. “Did you just say Harley?”</p>
<p>“No, I said Harry.” And with that I flop back down and cover up my head. Harry grabs the blanket and we fight over it for a moment before he wins and uncovers me. I let out a wine before saying, “I regret every moment of my life that led to you waking me up right now.”</p>
<p> He crawls off the bed, taking the comforter with him. “MJ and Ned are in the living room and you’re going to miss our interview if you don’t hurry up.”</p>
<p>I grumble at him as he walks down the hallway. Harry and I were roommates in college, but we both went separate ways afterwards and haven’t spoken much since. Once my research was published and I started doing interviews, he got in touch because he wanted to help. We’ve spent countless hours working on research, brainstorming and problem solving. It’s been nice to have someone to work with, someone to bounce ideas off of. It takes me back to college when we would theorize late into the night, hopped up on caffeine and a need to change the world. </p>
<p> Sometimes, we work late into the night and he stays at my apartment because it’s closer than going back to his. He has a bougie place on the upper west side. I just have a dingy one room I can barely afford in the middle of Manhattan. I don’t even have a second room, he normally just sleeps on the couch.</p>
<p> Once I have my teeth brushed and hair slightly tamed, I stumble out to the living room. </p>
<p>“Hey, Pete. Glad to see your alive.” Ned jerks his head toward the little area that counts as a kitchen. “Coffee’s ready.”</p>
<p>	MJ and him are sitting on the couch, steaming cups in hand. Harry’s on the floor in front of the couch and I join him there once I have my own cup. When I moved in, I gave them each permission to come and go from my apartment as they like, even when I’m not here. I leave the door unlocked so they can stop by whenever. I live the most centrally in the city, so it’s nice for them if they stay at work late or just want some place to hang out, they can just come here instead of trekking home. It’s not the nicest apartment, the furniture is cheap, and I hardly ever have food, but they’re always here anyway. I think part of it is to make sure I don’t work too much. Since my break up with Harley, I’ve been working myself relentlessly, trying to not have to think about the gaping Harley shaped whole in my life. </p>
<p>Harry and I are going to be on a morning news show about our research. It’s a pre-taped segment that they filmed last week. They followed us around for a day to see what it was like. I’m interested to see how it turns out. It was nice to have an interview that was solely rooted in my research. No one was fishing for information about Harley or our relationship. No one was asking me why I don’t have social media or what my workout routine was. It was a nice change of pace to talk about something I’m passionate about. None of us say anything while we wait for the segment to air. I think they’re letting me wake up before they talk to me. I love my friends.</p>
<p> When they air the segment, MJ turns up the volume so we catch everything. It’s a nice piece that details our work and the process involved. I hope it encourages people to be a bit kinder to the environment. As soon as it’s over the hosts talk a little about the piece before mentioning the next segment is going to be an interview with Harley. As soon as they mention his name, I feel all the eyes in the room swivel to me. I did not take my break up with Harley well. It’s getting a little better, but only marginally so. </p>
<p>MJ nudges me with her foot a bit. “Do you want me to change the channel?”</p>
<p> I drain the last of my coffee, hoping it will give me the strength to watch this next segment. “Guys. Harley and I broke up 3 months ago. I think I can handle watching an interview.” It’s a lie but I’m glad they don’t call me out on it. </p>
<p>Once they come back from commercials, Harley is sitting there. He’s on my screen. It’s the first time I’ve really let myself look at him. He looks tired. But I guess touring for six months straight will do that to you. I’m so wrapped up in looking at Harley, trying to get any information about how he’s doing from him that I can that I almost miss the anchors first question. “You’ve just finished the European leg of your world tour and have a month off before your North American one starts. Any big plans for your time off?”</p>
<p> Harley shakes his head. “Not really. I still have to do a little bit of work to make sure the tour is ready to go. But I think I’m going to relax, maybe spend some time in Tennessee with my mom and sister.”</p>
<p>“Can fans expect to hear new music from you on this part of the tour, similar to how you’ve done previously? And can you tell us who the songs might be about? Have you written any about your new rumored boyfriend?” The new boyfriend doesn’t surprise me. Harry showed me a picture of him last week to convince me that Harley was moving on and so should I. It didn’t help, it just made me feel a bit worse. I want Harley to be happy, even if that means it’s with someone else, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt. I didn’t know he was writing new music though. I want to know who it’s about. Does he write words for him as he did for me? I wish I was still the first person he played music for, that I could still wander down the stairs at night to find him plinking away at the piano. </p>
<p>“For sure. I’ve slowly been working on some new music and I like to share it when I can. I’m not saying any of it is going to end up on the next album, but I like playing it for the fans and they like listening to it. It’s like having a nice chat with thousands of my closest friends.” I don’t miss the way he doesn’t answer who the songs are about. I wish he would have so I could know who he replaced me with.</p>
<p>“And since we just had a segment on Peter, you’re ex-boyfriend, I feel obligated to ask what you thought about it?” The anchor lets out a light laugh that Harley doesn’t really return. I feel my stomach sink. I don’t want to listen to Harley talk about me, to hear the disinterest in his voice. It’s going to hurt too much. I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them while I watch. </p>
<p>“I thought it was great. His work is important and I’m glad it’s finally getting the attention it deserves.”</p>
<p>"And what do you think about Peters new boyfriend?”</p>
<p>Harley takes a sip of a mug sitting next to him and shrugs. “Peter deserves to be happy. If he’s happy that’s what really matters.”</p>
<p>I miss the rest of the interview because what their talking about finally sinks into my thick skull. I whip around to look at everyone else in the room. “Who the fuck do they think I’m dating?”</p>
<p>The idea is ridiculous. I don’t think I’m ever going to get over Harley, let alone date someone new. How could I when I know what it is to be loved by Harley? No one else could compare. They all stare at me for a long moment before Ned lets out an undignified snort that I think was an ill repressed laugh. </p>
<p>MJ pats me on the head as she says, “You’re so hopeless.”</p>
<p> “Guys, tell me.”</p>
<p>Ned points at Harry and it takes me a moment to realize what he’s trying to say. “They think Harry and I are dating? What the hell?”</p>
<p>He shrugs. “I mean, you are on my Instagram a lot and I’m always at your apartment.”</p>
<p>“Well, I bet your girlfriend doesn’t like that.”</p>
<p> “The internet sees what it wants to.”</p>
<p>“I need another cup of coffee before I deal with this shit.” How could I be dating someone else? I still wake up every morning and reach for Harley. I still reach for my phone to tell him about something I think he’ll find funny. I still have his ratty high school shirt that I pull out when I really miss him. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> ***********</p>
</div><p>I’m supposed to be having a nice dinner with Brad , but I can’t help but think about yesterday’s interview. I probably shouldn’t have said those things about Peter. I mean, what if he saw it? Who am I kidding, he doesn’t pay attention to those sort of things. He’s too busy working and hanging out with his new boyfriend, Harry or whatever his name is. </p>
<p>A tap against my ankle brings me back to reality. And I realize I’ve been zoned out for who knows how long. I think we were talking about… uh… I don’t remember. I’m being a shitty date. I should have been listening to what Brad was saying. “I’m really sorry. I’m not being a very good date, am I?”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Harley.” It’s really not. You don’t go out on a date and act like an ass. Not when that person was your friend. “You know, we can just have dinner as friends, if you want.” </p>
<p>I sigh and set down my fork. Brad has been one of my only friends on tour. He’s one of the dancers that was touring with me. We hung out a lot during rehearsals and even more once tour started. When Peter broke up with me, Brad was there with alcohol and an ear. I didn’t
want to talk about it and he didn’t make me. We talked about anything but Peter and I will forever be grateful to him. He’s helped me through the last few months, been a really amazing friend. “I know I already said it, but I’m going to keep saying it because I mean it. I’m sorry. When you asked me out to dinner, I thought I was ready. I thought that if Peter was moving on, I could. But I guess that wasn’t true.” I run a hand over my face. “I know I should be over him, move on, but I don’t know if I ever will. It hasn’t gotten any easier. I think Peter’s go to follow me around for the rest of my life. I feel like all my thoughts are going to echo his name. In 30 years, when I’m looking back at my life, he’s going to haunt all my regrets, all my what ifs.” I give Brad a smile I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Sorry again. I’m over here ruining dinner. Tell me about your trip home last week. How’s your little sister? Did she like the sweater I sent for her?”</p>
<p>“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to be upset for as long as it takes you to be okay. There’s no set time where you need to be fine. And it’s not going to happen over night. It’s a slow process thats going to happen slowly until one day you wake up and you realize that you’re okay, that the gaping whole in your life has healed over.”</p>
<p> “Thanks. For everything.”</p>
<p>And with that he launches into a story about his sister and spends the rest of the night telling me about his trip home. It might not be what I pictured the night would be, but it’s what I need. It’s nice to be out, laughing, to pretend for a night that I’m okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is from Because I Had You by Shawn Mendes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. If I could only change the moment Would you let me fix what's broken?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I pull on the neck of my shirt, trying to breathe a bit and MJ smacks my hand away. “You’re going to wrinkle your shirt if you keep pulling at it like that.”</p>
<p>“At least then I’ll be able to breathe.” I point at Ned sitting across from me. “Ned, help me out. You hate this as much as I do, right?”</p>
<p> He puts his hands up. “I’m not getting into the middle of this.” Then he turns to Betty and leaves me to fight off MJ’s attacks on my own. </p>
<p>She swats at me again as I reach up to tug at my collar. “I think this shirt is too small. Look, Ned isn’t choking because he has the right size shirt.”</p>
<p>“Ned isn’t about to see his ex-boyfriend for the first time since they broke up either.”</p>
<p> My hands still around my tie and I turn to her, all but forgetting about not being able to breathe. “Do you really think he’s going to show up?” </p>
<p> “He did tell Tony he was going to be here.” She grabs my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine. “But just because he is, doesn’t mean you have to talk to him, if you don’t want.”</p>
<p>I sigh and lean my head against her shoulder, grateful to have her here with me. We spend the rest of the ride talking about what to expect from tonight. We’re in a limo, on our way to an official Stark Industries party. If you would have told me 10 years ago that I would be going to an event at Stark Tower, dressed in a suit that costs more than my rent, I probably would have laughed at you. But here we are. Mr. Stark is holding a charity event in one of the halls he never uses for anything. He said my work inspired him to want to make his company more sustainable and he’s using this to make some kind of announcement. He even asked me to give a speech about it. And yet, the thing I’m most nervous about is seeing Harley again, about possibly having to talk to him. Or not talking to him. I don’t know, I’m confused about the whole thing. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> ***********</p>
</div><p>It’s been hours since this thing started and I haven’t had to talk to Harley yet. I can’t decide if I’m happy about that or not. We’ve been playing a weird game of avoiding each other, like two magnets repelling each other. I’ve been sitting here at the bar for a while now, people stopping by to tell me how much they liked my speech, that they’re excited about my work. Tony made his announcement earlier, that Stark Industries is going to be providing its own, clean energy from now on with a reactor, and the champagne and alcohol has been flowing ever since. I think everyone is drunk enough or partying enough that they won’t notice if I slip out. </p>
<p>Once the elevator reaches the living area, I step out and into the familiar halls. I’ve spent so much time here, it’s like a second home. I walk through the halls, running my hand along the walls. It’s quiet up here and I take a moment to loosen my tie, unbuttoning a few buttons on my shirt. It’s nice to be able to breathe again. I stop when I get to the sitting room. I haven’t been here in a long time. It’s not really used and I didn’t ever have a reason to come back here. It’s still decorated the way it was when Harley was living here. The same couch and table, a guitar and the same piano. The one Harley and I spent so much time at when we were getting to know each other. Sitting at that piano is the one person I’ve been trying to avoid all night while at the same time wanting so much to talk to him. He’s not playing anything, just sitting there, staring at nothing. His suit jacket is tossed over the couch, his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows. </p>
<p>I’ve spent 3 months slowly rebuilding my life with out him, rebuilding walls I didn’t know he tore down. But like a house of cards, seeing him here knocks them down again. I’m about to leave, let him be alone when he turns around and sees me. I feel my cheeks burn at having been caught standing here. “Uh… sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”</p>
<p>“You’re not interrupting. I wasn’t doing anything. I just needed to get away from everyone.”</p>
<p> “I’ll leave you to it.” </p>
<p>I turn to leave but stop at the sound of rustling behind me, a hand on my arm. “Please don’t.” I turn back around and his hand slips from my arm. I don’t know what he wants, where he’s going with this, but I’ll stand here until he tells me. Whether it means he’s going to ask me to be friends, help me put my heart back together, or crush it beyond repair, I need to know. “Please…” He runs a hand through his hair, sending the perfectly styled curls in every direction. “Can we talk for a second?” I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Harley’s always been better at words than me. “I have questions and they’ve been haunting me. They follow me to bed every night, on stage, and anywhere I go. And I don’t know if now is the right time to ask them, but I need to know the answers.” </p>
<p>“You can ask me anything, Harls.” I cringe at the slip of the nickname. I haven’t called him that in so long and I berate myself for using it now. He softens a bit at its use though, so maybe it’s not so bad after all. </p>
<p> “How come you’ve been avoiding me all night?”</p>
<p>It’s not the question I’m expecting him to ask and I don’t know how to answer it. “I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me and I didn’t want to know the answer. I thought it would be too painful.” I rub my hand along the back of my neck. I shouldn’t be saying these things, shouldn’t be giving him my heart again just so he can break it. “I couldn’t risk talking to you again just to hear another goodbye. When you broke up with me, Harley, it crushed me. I’ve spent months trying to remember who I used to be before you, trying to figure out who I am now that you aren’t here. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that again.”</p>
<p>He stares at me for long enough that I’m about to leave, knowing he meant it when he said he wanted to break up, knowing I’m making a fool of myself. I watch as emotions war across his face before finally settling on confusion. “When I… broke up… with you? Peter, I didn’t break up with you.”</p>
<p>I feel my face heat up, this time not from embarrassment, but from frustration. How can he stand here and lie to me when we both know the truth? When I speak, it’s louder than is warranted given he’s standing right in front of me and I can hear some of my frustration leaking into my voice. “Yes. You. Did.” </p>
<p>  “I never said I wanted to break up with you. You’re the one that said you couldn’t do this anymore.” He’s matching my frustration with his own and before I know it we’re both shouting at each other. </p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant! If you’d have listened to me, you would have known that!”</p>
<p> He gestures around the room. “I’m listening now.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter now!” I slump back against the wall and close my eyes. When I talk, it’s quiet and defeated compared to the yelling we were doing a moment ago. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Harley.”</p>
<p> He takes a tentative step forward and when I don’t tell him to stop he takes another one. “What if I said it did? What if I wanted it to matter?”</p>
<p>He’s standing close enough that I can smell his cologne, can feel the heat radiating off of him. “How come you never called me back? I spent days waiting for you to call, for you to come back to me. And when you didn’t I didn’t know what to do.” I search his face, trying to figure out what he’s going to say, if he’s going to tell me this is all a big joke.</p>
<p>He puts his hand on my chest, grabbing a fist full of my suit jacket. “Fuck. Pete, shit.” He grabs a bit tighter onto my jacket and I think about reminding him that this suit is expensive and he might ruin it. I quickly decide it doesn’t matter when he’s standing so close to me. “I didn’t call because I was afraid. I came home, did you know that? I came home to talk to you, but you were already gone. There was nothing left of you, but a ghost of the past. You left a whole in my life and no one and nothing can fill it.”</p>
<p> I don’t know where this leaves us, but I do know one thing: he’s close enough to kiss. I don’t know what gives me the courage to do it, but I close the distance between us and kiss him. If you ask me tomorrow, I’ll probably say the smell of Harley, the feel of his body pressed against mine, what he was saying convinced me this was a good idea. Right now though, Harley’s lips are pressed against mine and he tastes like tequila and thats all I want to focus on. </p>
<p>I remember a time when we kissed slow, like we had all the time in the world. And back then we did. These aren’t anything like that though. These are desperate, trying to make up for lost time. I kiss Harley like he’s the oxygen I need to live. He’s got his hands fisted in my jacket like he’s holding on with all he is. I’ve untucked his shirt and am running my hands along his stomach, across his sides, and up his back when I hear shuffling from another room. Harley must hear it too because he pulls away and looks at me. We listen closer, hoping whoever it is doesn’t come this way. </p>
<p>As much as I want to stay here and kiss Harley, it really isn’t our house and we shouldn’t overstay our welcome. “Uh… I. I have an apartment if you want to continue this there?” </p>
<p>I close my eyes and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I am so terrible at being smooth, always bumbling over my words. Harley doesn’t comment on it, but instead kisses my cheek and says, “I’d love that. Lead the way.”</p>
<p>I grab his hand and pull him into the hallway. I pull up short when I do and Harley almost runs into my back. Mr. Stark is standing there next to Pepper with Morgan in his arms. He looks between us, at out intertwined hands, Harley’s untucked shirt, and my wrinkled jacket and lets out a sigh. “I’m too old for this shit.”</p>
<p>Morgan stirs in his arms at his voice. “Shit.” She peeks an eye open and sees us. “Peter! Harley!”</p>
<p>Mr. Stark kisses her on the head and adjusts as she tries to get out of his arms. “We can’t say that word, sweetie. That’s mommy’s word. Let’s get you to bed.”</p>
<p>Harley and I are just standing there, unsure what to do. Morgan tries to get down from Mr. Starks arms again. “But I want to play with Peter and Harley.”</p>
<p> He sends us a pointed look. “They’re busy and were just leaving.”</p>
<p> Harley gabs my hand and pulls me toward the elevator. “Yeah, uh, we have some unfinished business. We’ll come back another day.” </p>
<p> Morgan nods and buries her self back into Tony’s arms. As soon as the elevator doors close we’re laughing and we don’t stop until we reach the bottom floor where we grab a cab back to my apartment. We spend the rest of the night lost in each other, tangled in an endless sea of limbs. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from On Your Mind by The Vamps</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Tell me that you're still mine, Tell me that we'll be just fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up to a feather light kiss on the back of my neck. I try not to move too much, try to pretend I’m still asleep. If Harley knows I’m awake he might stop, he might try to leave. I don’t move for as long as I can and Harley places a few more soft kisses to my neck. They’re soft, barely there. I’ve missed mornings like this. The only sound honking cars and people passing on the streets below. There’s no rush to be anywhere, it’s just the two of us laying in bed as long as we want, Harley pressing soft kisses to my neck. He must realize I’m awake because he brushes his nose against my back and pulls me closer. </p><p>I can’t pretend to be asleep anymore, so I turn over and nestle myself into his arms. Entangling our legs, I run a foot up and down his calf and feel his arm tighten around me. The light coming in through my window is bright, meaning it must be the middle of the day, but it still feels too early to be awake. Harley’s running a hand up and down my back, so I guess it’s time to get up. I mumble a “Morning” into his chest and feel him chuckle. I’m a little unsure where to go from here. We didn’t exactly do a lot of talking last night. Does Harley want to stay? Does he want to talk or does he just want to move on? I don’t know, so I don’t say anything. I’ll lay here in his arms as long as I can. </p><p>I’ve almost fallen asleep to the soft soothing motion of Harley’s hand on my back when I hear the front door open and close. I freeze for a fraction of a second before sitting up and looking at Harley. He looks confused, his eyebrows pinching together. “Do you have a roommate?”</p><p>How would I have a roommate in a one bedroom apartment? “No?”</p><p>He sits up, the blankets pooling around his stomach and he looks a bit panicked. “Your boyfriend?”</p><p>Now it’s my turn to be confused. “What? Just hang on a second. I’ll be right back.” I turn away before he can say anything and rush out of my bedroom, coming to a quick stop in the living room. “Harry.” </p><p>He looks up from where he’s taking off his shoes. I watch as his eyebrows climb higher and higher up his forehead as he finally looks around the apartment. I look around too, trying to see it from his perspective: the two pairs of shoes haphazardly sitting by the door, the jackets strewn across the couch, a shirt on the floor in the hallway. I cringe and hope it doesn’t look like how I think it does. He leans against the door, staring at me. “Parker.” He’s got a smirk on his face and I want to hit him because he looks smug. </p><p>I walk around the couch and grab his jacket, shoving it back at him. “Harry, get out of here.” I’m really regretting letting my friends come and go in my apartment whenever they want. This all could have been avoided if I didn’t love my friends so much. </p><p>He pokes my chest and I look down to see he’s got his finger on a bruise I know Harley put there last night. Staring down at my chest, I wish I’d thought to put a shirt on when I came out here. Standing here in nothing but my boxers while trying to have this conversation is a bit awkward. He whispers, “You brought someone home last night? I’m impressed. who was it? Who finally got you to let go of Harley?” He tries to look around me, like he’s going to see who’s in my room. When I don’t say anything, he lets out a sigh and drops his hand. “Shit, Pete. You can’t do this to yourself.”</p><p>I open the door he’s standing next to and shove him out of it. “I love you, Harry, but you’ve got to go. We’ll talk another time.” And I shut the door in his face. I almost feel bad about it, but I know Harry won’t take it personally. I lean my head against the door and take a deep breathe. I love my friends, but right now, I want to kill them. When I’ve finally recovered and pulled myself together, I turn around and go back to the bedroom. Harley’s putting on a shirt when I walk in. I think it’s mine, but I don’t say anything to him. I watch as he buttons up his shirt. I feel like he’s trying to walk out of my life again and I refuse to let it happen again without him telling me why. I step in front of him when he tries to walk out of the room. “I don’t have a boyfriend, you know that right?”</p><p>He stops and looks down at me. “Oh.” His eyebrows creep together as he’s thinking. I want to reach out and smooth them, but I don’t know if he wants me to or not. “Who was that then?”</p><p> “My friend Harry.”</p><p>“I thought you two were…. Never mind.”</p><p>I grab ahold of his shirt, to try and keep him here. “Look, can we talk?”</p><p> He nods. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”</p><p> “Let me get dressed.” I step around him and pull clothes out of my dresser and closet. I pull some out for him too so he can have something more comfortable. Once we’re both dressed and have a cup of coffee, we settle into the couch. Now that we’re here, I don’t know what I want to talk about. “Harley, why did you sleep with me if you thought I had a boyfriend?”</p><p>He fidgets and I regret asking. It’s really not important and I don’t know why I asked in the first place. “When you kissed me last night, I wasn’t thinking about anything except keeping you close, kissing you while I could. It wasn’t until someone came in this morning that I thought about it.” He looks over at me and quickly away. “You know, I wouldn’t have regretted it even if you had a boyfriend. Even if I knew you did, nothing would have changed.”</p><p> “What, you would have been the other man? You would have been happy with that?” </p><p>He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’d be happy with whatever you could give me, even if it was just scraps.”</p><p>I rub at my eyes. “Jesus, Fuck. How did we get here? How did we get so fucked up?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” He looks at me again and I see actual pain cross his face. “But tell me how to fix it. Please.” </p><p>Harley and I are like s puzzle made of broken glass and wrong pieces. No matter how hard we try, we’ll never fit back together and the only thing we’ll get for trying are cuts. “I don’t know how to fix it Harley.”</p><p>He turns his body toward me to better look at me. “Tell me what you meant when you said you couldn’t do this anymore.”</p><p>It takes me a minute to realize what he’s talking about, that he’s talking about months ago when we fell apart. “I meant we couldn’t keep putting each other last. We didn’t talk or see each other for weeks, we put our work ahead of each other. We didn’t make each other a priority. Neither of us did. You were focused on your tour and I was focused on my work. We weren’t built to last. But we could have been”</p><p> “So you didn’t want to break up?”</p><p>I can’t help but let out a small, derisive laugh. “No, I didn’t. I think part of the problem was that I took you for granted. I assumed you’d be there when my work was done.”</p><p>He drains the last of his coffee and sets it down. “You know when I thought you were dating Harry, I was jealous. But I was also happy. I was glad you had someone you could talk to about your work, that would actually understand you. Because I could never do that. I’ve tried, but I don’t understand. And I thought you would want that, someone who would be able to have an intelligent conversation with you about what you do for a living.”</p><p>I reach out and place a hand on his leg. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I’ve never thought that. I always liked the glassy eyed look you get when I talk about it. I always thought it was cute.”</p><p>“Why didn’t we ever talk about this stuff when we were together?” I shrug, but don’t look him in the eye. I feel a tug on my shirt and then Harley pulls me a little closer. “Pete, tell me what your thinking. I don’t want to be bad at communicating anymore.”</p><p>I sigh because I feel a little stupid about what I’m about to say. “When you were on tour, I felt like I was holding you back. Like, you weren’t fully invested in your work because you had to worry about me and I didn’t want that for you.” I stare down at what’s left in my cup. “And at the same time, I felt like you were leaving me behind, forgetting about me. But I didn’t want to ask more of you because so many other people were asking for your attention. I tried to be happy with what you could give me.” </p><p>He pulls me closer, tucking me into his side and kisses the top of my head. “You were the only one I ever wanted to ask things of me. The one I would have done anything for. I’m sorry you ever felt otherwise.”</p><p> “What does this mean? For us?”</p><p>He doesn’t answer right away and I assume he’s thinking. I honestly don’t know the answer. If Harley said he wanted to try again, I would. But if he doesn’t… I think I would be okay with that. Now that we’ve talked about things, I think it would be okay. It’s not like I would lose him completely, we’ll have to see each other at Mr. Stark’s at least sometimes. And I think we could be friends. “I don’t know. I’m going to be leaving for tour again soon and you have your work. That hasn’t changed.” He rubs his hand along my side and my head lifts with his chest as he takes a deep breath. “You know, when I told you you were my best friend, I meant it. Do you think we could still be friends… after everything?”</p><p>I nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.” It’s like a weight has lifted off my shoulders, one I didn’t even know was there. All these months, I’d been carrying around our relationship like a dead weight that’s been trying to drag me down. Now that we’ve talked, I feel free again. It’s like I’ve finally gotten a deep breathe after drowning for so long. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from Afterglow by Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. This love is good, this love is bad. This love is alive back from the dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been two weeks since Harley and I decided to be friends again. It’s been… good. I thought it would have been weird or painful to have Harley so close, but not be mine. Thankfully, it hasn’t been. Harley’s folded right back into my friend group and we all hang out together now. I think he missed MJ and Ned too. My apartment has been like Grand Central Station, everyone coming and going whenever they want. I love it. When I come home from work, there’s almost always someone there. One time, I came home and Ned, MJ, and Harley were sitting in a circle on the floor passing cardboard Chinese takeout containers and laughing like they’ve been friends their entire lives. They made room for me and we spent the night just like that. We talked and laughed as the sun set and the moon rose. We were all exhausted the next day, but it was worth it. </p><p>It hasn’t all been rainbows and butterflies, there’s definitely been a bit of an adjustment. With Harley at my apartment a lot, the media obviously found out about it. The rumors have been flying, people talking about us, if we’re back together. It’s been weird to have paparazzi camped outside of my building. I feel bad for the other residents. Thankfully, they haven’t caught on that MJ and Ned are also here, so they haven’t had the media rip them apart yet.</p><p>Harry on the other hand, is a different story. They know he’s been coming here. And they already thought we were dating, so they’ve kind of pitted Harry and Harley against each other, I guess. I don’t really know, Mr. Stark was telling me about it. Which is bullshit because it’s none of their business who I’m dating or who’s at my apartment. I think the fuel for it is coming from the fact that Harry hasn’t been over much since Harley started hanging out at my apartment. He’s been acting kind of distant the last few weeks and I hate it. MJ and Ned told me it’s because he’s still pissed at Harley. I told him, MJ, and Ned everything, how it was all just one big miscommunication and how we talked about things. MJ and Ned seemed to move on, but not Harry. They said him and Harley needed to just talk like they did with Harley. I guess one of the days I was at work they had a talk with Harley about everything and now they’re all good. But Harry’s different. He’s had trust issues as long as I’ve known him. Growing up, his dad was really manipulative and he’s grown to not trust people. He spent all of our college days working to trust better. He’s always struggled with it and I understand, but Harley isn’t untrustworthy. I need Harry to see that, but every time I bring it up at work, he shuts it down real quick. It’s infuriating. </p><p> Harley sits down next to me on the couch, bringing me back to reality. He hands me a glass of wine and I take a sip. “Okay, I’m buying you a new couch.”</p><p>I adjust, testing the couch. “What’s wrong with this one?”</p><p>He pats it a few times, inspecting it. “It’s lumpy.”</p><p> I push at his shoulder. “Beggars can’t be choosers there rich boy.”</p><p> He looks caught off guard by my comment. “You had to beg for this?” He looks at it in fake disgust. “Where did you get it? The street?”</p><p>I laugh because I know he’s joking and because I’ve missed joking like this with him. I poke him in the side. “Shut up and just pick something to watch.”</p><p> We’ve spent a few nights like this, just the two of us. We order dinner, pour large glasses of wine, and binge something trashy on Netflix. It’s like a friends date. He always stays way too late and goes home at ungodly hours of the night. No matter how late it gets, he never stays over. We’ve silently agreed that would be blurring the line of friends and boyfriends, we’re already toeing the line as it is.</p><p>We’re a couple episodes in when I hear the front door open and we both turn to see who it is. Harry walks in and hangs his coat up before he turns toward us. He stops as soon as he sees Harley’s here. It’s almost comical, the way the three of us just stare at each other. I watch as Harry takes in the wine glasses, the pizza box on the table, and the dim lighting. I know what he thinks, but I know he’s wrong. “I’ll just come back another time.” </p><p>“Harry, wait.” I get up and follow him as he grabs his coat and walks out the door. I grab his arm once we’re out in the hall to keep him from leaving. “Can we talk for a second?”</p><p>He turns and takes a step closer to me. Normally Harry’s a bit taller than me, but he’s mad right now and it makes him tower over me. “So, what are you guys dating again or are you just fuck buddies?”</p><p>I shove him away with the hand that was still holding his arm. I quickly turn and shut the door to my apartment so Harley doesn’t hear any of this conversation. Seethingly, I say, “What the hell is your problem?”</p><p>I tried to talk quietly to get Harry to lower his voice and it works because when he talks it’s almost a whisper. He still sounds pissed, but at least he’s not being so loud about it. “Harley’s my problem. You’re going to get hurt again, Peter. This whole weird dating thing you’ve got going on is going to end with you getting burnt again.”</p><p> “We’re just friends. Harley’s my best friend. That’s all.”</p><p>He blinks at me like I’ve said something that surprises him. When he talks he still sounds angry, but there’s also a hurt to his voice. “You know, there was a time when I was your best friend. When Ned was. Or MJ.”</p><p>I rub a hand over my eyes. “You’re all my best friends. I love all of you, you’re all important to me. Ned loves Star Wars, MJ tells me things without sugar coating them, you push me to be better, and Harley…”</p><p> “Fucks you?”</p><p> I run a hand through my hair, pulling on it. “Why are you being such a dick?”</p><p>“I don’t want you to get hurt again. He’s manipulating you, can’t you see that?”</p><p>I don’t even know what to say. He’s not. In the moment, there’s only one thing I want and it’s to hurt Harry as much as he’s hurting me. Which is not my proudest moment, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I can’t take them back. “I am not you and Harley is not your dad.” I know the blow lands because I can see Harry flinch. It takes him a moment, but as soon as he recovers, he turns around and starts to walk away. “Harry, wait. That’s not what I— fuck, I didn’t mean that.”</p><p>He doesn’t wait for the elevator, instead, walks to the stairs. As soon as he gets to the door he turns back to look at me long enough to say, “You’ve said enough, Peter.”</p><p> And with that he’s gone. I think about chasing after him, but I don’t think either of us are ready to have a civil conversation. Instead, I turn and walk back into my apartment. Once I’m back inside I know Harley and I aren’t going to be going back to the night we were having. The TV is dark, the pizza box and wine glasses are gone, and Harley’s putting on his jacket. “I think I should probably go.”</p><p>“Oh… um, okay. Thanks for coming over.” I move away from the door, not bothering to turn around to watch him leave. I wanted to come back in here and drink the night away with Harley, forget about my argument with Harry, but I think Harley heard a bit too much of that conversation to want to stay. Between my fight with Harry and Harley leaving, I feel like I’ve lost so much. Two friends in one go. Why did I ever think this was going to work? I feel a tear fall down my cheek and swipe furiously at it, feeling betrayed by it. When I hear the door open, I silently let out a sob. When I hear the door shut it makes everything feel final and I let out another sob, but this one isn’t as quiet as the other one. I’m by myself now, so what does it matter?</p><p> I’m leaning against the back of the couch, one hand holding me up and the other wiping tears off my cheeks when I feel a hand on my arm and it terrifies me. Almost as soon as the terror comes, it disappears because Harley is wrapping me up in a hug. I know it’s him because the way he kisses the top of my head is familiar. His arms around me feel safe, his cologne smells like home. I clutch at his jacket as tight as I can, keeping him here.</p><p>I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually I stop crying and I finally look up at Harley. He wipes the remaining tears from my face and places a kiss to my forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“I think…” I let out an unsteady breath before I continue, pushing down the tears that are threatening to come again. “I think maybe I ruined my friendship with Harry.” </p><p>I feel him stiffen and his arms tighten around me, but then he’s rubbing a hand up and down my back and I think maybe I imagined it. “I don’t think that’s possible. Look, I don’t really know Harry, but I know you. And I don’t think you could have done that. I’m sure if you talk to him, you can work it out.”</p><p>I bite my lip and look up at him. “I don’t know. I said some shitty things. Did you hear what we were talking about?”</p><p>He shakes his head. “Not really. I heard the beginning, but then you shut the door.” He shrugs.</p><p>So, I tell him about the argument. I tell him how Harry doesn’t have a good relationship with his dad, how he was one of the few that actually saw how much I struggled after we stopped talking. I tell him how Harry thinks we can’t be just friends and that I’m going to get hurt again. I tell him how Harry’s like an overprotective brother and he’s trying to protect me. I tell him about what I said, the blow I landed and how I’m not sure it’s healable. He listens to it all without saying anything, though I know he wants to. I see pain cross his face when I basically tell him we were arguing over him. He still doesn’t say anything, he lets me talk until I’m done before he speaks. “You’re not going to lose Harry. He left today because he was mad. Give him some time to cool down and you guys can talk. It’s going to be okay.” I nod my head because I want to believe it. He gently unwraps his arms from around me and pulls me over to the kitchen area. “Let’s get you some water.” </p><p>I go because now that he’s mentioned it, I realize the crying has made me thirsty. I watch as he grabs a glass and fills it with water before handing it to me. We sit in silence while I drink it, Harley’s hand on the small of my back. It’s not an uncomfortable silence and it gives me some time to think. I think about how Harley knows where the glasses are in my cupboard and how he knows I like room temperature water over cold. Which isn’t that astounding because Ned, MJ, and Harry all know that. But I never thought it would matter that Harley did again. I think about the hand on my back and that he knows to put it there to comfort me, that the pressure of his hand makes me feel safe. </p><p>Finishing my water, I set it down. Harley was right, it made me feel better. Though I think it was less the water and more being forced to slow down and think while I drank it. Turning to face Harley, I realize we’re standing close. It’s closer than we’ve been in the last two weeks. We’ve been toeing a line, keeping each other at an arms distance. I don’t think we’ve been doing it on purpose, but now that he’s here, I realize that we have. Now, all I want to do is put my arms around him and hold him close. So I do. I push my hands under his jacket, wrapping my arms around him. I pull him in closer and pressing my face into the crook of his neck, breathing his cologne. When he puts his arms around me, I let out a sigh. It’s like coming home from a long and difficult journey. Like, feeling the comfort of home after forgetting them. </p><p>He kisses me on the top of the head. I don’t know what it all means, but I know friends don’t do this. We’ve crossed the line and I don’t know if I want to go back. I don’t know if I can. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> “For what?” I don’t pull back to ask and my lips brush against his neck when I say it and I feel his arms tighten around my waist.</p><p>“It’s my fault you were arguing with Harry. You were fighting about me.”</p><p>I pull back just enough to look at him. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. What we were arguing about was about me and my decisions.”</p><p>His eyebrows pinch together in the middle and I want to reach up and smooth them out, to reassure him that none of it is his fault. “But I heard—”</p><p> “It doesn’t matter what you heard, Harley. We might have been fighting about my decision to be friends with you, but it was still my decision we were arguing about.” </p><p>He presses his lips together into a thin line and I know he doesn’t believe me. “I don’t want to cause any problems with your friends.”</p><p>I shake my head. “It’s me. I fight with him because I know he’s right. Every time he brings it up, I double down on telling him he’s wrong. Not because I’m trying to convince him, but because I’m trying to convince myself. He’s right and I don’t want to believe him.”</p><p> “About what?”</p><p> I take a step away from him and his hands fall from my waist to his sides. I don’t want to have this conversation with him that close in case he doesn’t like what I say. It’s probably better to have him at a distance now than to have him pull away later. “About us being friends. Being friends with you is like sticking my hand into a flame. It hurts, but I do it anyway. And I think he knows more than anyone what it’s like to want something you can’t have. To set yourself on fire for a fraction of someone’s attention.” I run a hand through my hair and Harley looks like he’s going to say something, but I’m not done. Now that I’ve started talking, I don’t want to stop. I want Harley to know. “Because I don’t want you like a best friend, Harls.” A hurt look crosses his face, but I press on. “You can quiet my fears with just the touch of your hand. Pressing your hand onto my back makes me feel safe. A brush of your fingertips and I relax because your here with me. And if your here than everything is going to be fine. You wrap your arms around me and I’m home.” I place my hand on his chest, just over his heart. “You are home, Harley Keener.”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything right away. Normally, that would terrify me, but the look on his face makes me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on, “Oh.”</p><p>Eloquent. Harley might not have any words to say, but I do. I could go on and on, so I do. “You have a laugh I could recognize anywhere. You are kind and generous. You give everything you have to making music, to your career. You’re brave. You are so many things I want to be and you make me strive to be them. You have a look in your eyes, they shine with the look of someone whose about to cause trouble. And I like that you drag me in to it. You make me happy, make me feel loved. They way you talk to me, look at me, touch me. All of it.” I grab his hand and run my fingertips over his palm and along his fingers. “The callouses on your fingertips tell a story of a life before me. One that brought you to me and one that I want to keep learning about. And when you brush them across my skin, I think about how now I’m part of that story.” I place his hand against my cheek, turning my head to press a kiss to his palm. When I turn back to him I let go of his hand to grab ahold of his jacket. He leaves his hand there, curling it to fit against my neck, gently rubbing his thumb against my jaw. “I love you, Harley. I’ve never stopped. Even when we weren’t talking, I still loved you.”</p><p>He moves in front of me, backing me up against the counter and leans down to place his forehead against mine. “Mmhmm. God help us. We’re a couple of fools drunk on something stronger than alcohol.” He leans forward the last little distance and kisses me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I don’t hesitate to kiss him back. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for the last 2 weeks. When I said I was fine with us being friends, I meant it. But at the time, I don’t think I really knew what I was agreeing to, that it would mean having Harley without him being mine. Now, I’ve got him again and I’m not letting him go. From the way he’s kissing me, I think maybe he doesn’t want to let me go either. </p><p>Eventually, Harley pulls back and I chase after his lips. I’m about to complain when he starts to leave kisses down my neck and I let my hands slip into his hair. He stops when he reaches the collar of my shirt and I gently pull on his hair, trying to get him to kiss me again and he chuckles against my neck. Before I can protest him laughing, he grabs me behind the thighs, picks me up, and puts me on the counter. I let out a grunt of surprise. “Geez, warn a guy before you’re going to man handle him like that.” I pull him in closer, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Or don’t. It was kind of hot.” I lean down and kiss him again. Sitting on the counter, I’m finally taller than Harley. It’s a nice change. I like having to lean down to kiss him or make him reach up to kiss me. </p><p>Far too soon, he pulls back and looks up at me. He can’t pull back too far because my legs are locked around his waist, but he does put a hand on my chest when I try to lean forward. “Hang on. Give me a moment.” I lean back a bit and loosen my legs, letting him take a step back if he wants. “I need to make something very clear.” I wilt, the light going out of me, the cupboards holding me up. This is where he tells me this doesn’t mean anything to him, that he still wants to be friends. “I didn’t say it earlier, but I want to now. Peter Parker, I love you. I want you, all of you, everything. If you want… I want to be your boyfriend again, if you’ll have me.”</p><p>“Did you not hear what I said earlier? It’s all I want.”</p><p>He pinches my side and I squirm away from him, laughing. “There’s no need to be a little shit about it, darlin’.” I laugh and he smiles at me. It’s hard to imagine that earlier I was fighting with Harry when I’m so happy right now. Harley pulls me closer, almost to the edge of the counter, and leans his head against my chest. “As your boyfriend, I am begging you to let me stay the night. It’s almost 2 am and I don’t want to try and find a ride home.” He looks up at me with the glint in his eye that I love, the one that tells me he’s about to say something stupid. “Besides, I think the view in the morning is going to be much better here.” </p><p>I sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve signed myself up for a life of your stupid jokes.” Kissing him on the forehead, I say, “Of course you can.”</p><p>He helps me down from the counter and we fall into bed without changing. It’s not like we’re wearing jeans or anything, besides, at this point, we’re too tired to care. It takes me a little longer to fall asleep than Harley. My mind is still processing everything that happened today. Between my fight with Harry and getting back together with Harley, I feel like a lot has changed in my life. I know Harry and I need to talk, but I can’t fix that right now. I can be happy for what I have right now. I fall asleep to Harley’s deep, even breathing with a small smile on my face. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from This Love by Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Show your demons and I might show you mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> “Ooohh, I know, I know! You need an indoor pool!” </p><p>MJ gives Ned a disapproving look. “Ned, think bigger. They need an infinity pool on their balcony. And instead of an indoor pool, they can have a movie theater. With a popcorn machine and all your favorite candy.”</p><p> “They have infinity pools in New York?”</p><p> MJ shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m sure Harley can have one made.”</p><p>“I think you overestimate how much money I have.”</p><p>I watch as MJ throws a potato chip at Harley. It bounces off his nose and lands in his lap. “I think the multiple albums and sold out world tours say otherwise.”</p><p>“Yeah, Harley!” Ned turns to me. “Pete! I’ve got the perfect idea. You guys need a room for Star Wars Legos. We can build them and display them there. It’ll be totally awesome!”</p><p>I turn to Harley and make my best impression of puppy dog eyes. “Please. Pretty please, with a cherry on top.”</p><p>He looks at me for about 2 seconds before he finally breaks. “How can I say no to that face?” </p><p>Ned and I let out victory shouts and do little victory dances where we’re seated on the picnic blanket. Harley’s home from tour for a few days and we’re spending the day catching up with Ned, MJ, and Harry. And by that I mean they’re trying to convince us to get ostentatious things in our new apartment. Harley and I started looking for one last month and it’s been fun, trying to find a place for us to build our life together. It’s exciting and new and we’re both ready to finally live in the same place again. Getting back together with Harley was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve been happier in the last 2 months than I think I’ve ever been. This time is different and it’s better. We’ve made our relationship a priority, we’re open and honest with each other. It’s… it’s really good. </p><p>Looking at my friends, I know I’m content. Everything in my life is great right now. Well, almost everything. I sneak a glance at Harry and see he’s picking at the lettuce on his sandwich. We’ve been sitting in Central Park for hours now and he’s barely said 2 words. Our relationship since our fight has been… well, not doing well. We have to see each other at work everyday, but we hardly talk. I’ve tried to talk to him about Harley, tell him he doesn’t have to worry, but he won’t hear it. At this point, I don’t know what to do. I’ve talked to MJ, Ned, Harley, even Mr. Stark about it, but everyone told me he’d get over it once he saw Harley wasn’t going anywhere this time. It’s been months now and it hasn’t changed. I let out a sigh thinking about it and Harley puts a hand on my back, rubbing it gently up and down. It’s like he knew what I was thinking about and is telling me it’s going to be okay. I try to focus back in on the conversation and not think about my withering friendship with Harry.</p><p>I rejoin the discussion just in time to hear Harley say, “I think y’all’ve outdone yourself this time.”</p><p>Ned and MJ let out laughs, but I roll my eyes. “Sometimes I forget you’re from Tennessee, but then you say things like y’all’ve and I’m violently reminded.”</p><p>But you still love me.” He reaches over and places a kiss to my neck. MJ lets out a retching noise and Ned pretends to choke on his water. I laugh because I know they’re joking.</p><p>I smile at Harley. “Yeah, I do.”</p><p>Harry abruptly dumps his food in the trash bag and places his plate back in the basket. He brushes off his hands as he says, “I’m going to go.”</p><p>Everybody freezes, unsure what to say. Ned finally breaks the silence and says, “Come on man, you don’t want to stay a little longer?”</p><p>I think he’s trying to be helpful, keep the peace, but we all know why he’s leaving. When he replies, he looks directly at Harley. “Positive.”</p><p>I feel Harley’s hand fist in the back of my shirt. “What’s your problem?”</p><p>“You.” I sigh. I guess we’re doing this now, then. “Ever since you’ve come into Peter’s life, all you’ve done is cause him trouble. Everyone else laughs at your jokes and tolerates you because you’re Harley Keener, but I don’t. You’re nothing more than a parasite, leeching off of Peter for the quiet life you wish you had. News flash, you’re never going to have a normal life. All you’re doing is dragging Peter into yours.”</p><p>Harley stands up and so does Harry. I stand up too because I feel like I might have to get between the two. And then everyone is standing and the situation has gone from light and fun to tense and uncomfortable. “I’ve put up with you acting like an ass for months now because you’re Peter’s friend, but I’m not doing it anymore.” He reaches down to grab his phone off the blanket and turns to walk away. </p><p> Harry crosses his arms. There’s a dark look in his eyes that reminds me far too much of his dad. It sends a shiver down my spine. “Walk away, Keener. You’re good at it.”</p><p>As soon, as the words leave his mouth, Harley turns around and I swear he looks like he’s about to haul off and punch Harry. Not that I would blame him, Harry’s being a bit of an asshole. Ned, MJ, and I are all at a loss. We can’t do anything but watch as these two finally collide. We all knew it was going to happen, I just wish it had been in a more private setting. People are taking photos and videos and I know this is going to be all over the media by tonight. Harley takes a step closer to Harry and says, “Not that I have to defend myself to you, but I am not using Peter. I’m not a leech and I’m not trying to have a quiet life. I’m just trying to have a life with Peter.” He runs a hand through his hair and I can see him forcing himself to calm down. “Look, I spent a long time thinking that the only thing I was worth was the music I made. I dated guys that left because they couldn’t handle the life I have, I wasn’t worth it to them. I used to wake up every morning thinking I had to keep working or else no one would want me around and I’d go to bed each night thinking no one would ever love me. Now I wake up every morning knowing it doesn’t matter what I do, there are people that want me around. And I go to bed every night knowing I’m loved no matter what. Peter makes loving me seem so easy. But I don’t love him because of the way he makes me feel. I love him because he’s kind and selfless. He’s brave and stands up for what is right, no matter the consequences. He has a moral compass stronger than anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. And not that it’s any of your business, but Peter and I have talked about all of this. My life, his, how to make them one. I’m not going to hurt him, Harry.”</p><p> “Too bad you already have.”</p><p>Harley lets out an irritated sigh. “Do you even know what happened last time?” He waits for Harry to answer, but Harry doesn’t say anything. The truth is, he doesn’t, he’s never asked and anytime I’ve tried to bring it up, he’s shut it down. “I didn’t think so. Maybe if you would listen instead of blindly hate me, you’d understand.”</p><p>Harry doesn’t say anything right away, but I see a shadow cross his face, watch his jaw tick and I know the next words out of his mouth are going to be a bullet. “Since you talk so much, have you told Peter what people say about him online? The way they hate him, vilify him?”</p><p>That makes me freeze and it takes me a few minutes to find words. Every one else must be struggling too because none of them say anything either. “What do they say about me online?” I know people talk about me, but the way Harry says it makes it seem like they aren’t just talking about me, but that they are actively rooting against me. I look at everyone in the group, but no one will meet my eyes. I pull on the hem of Harley’s shirt to try and get him to look at me. “Harley?”</p><p>He finally looks at me and his face softens. I think he’s about to say something, but before he can, Harry starts talking. “Since no one else seems to want to tell you, I will.” he counts them off on his fingers and each one feels like a blow. When I said the next words out of his mouth were going to be bullets, I didn’t realize they were going to be hitting me. I guess I’m just collateral damage in his war against Harley. “They call you a whore, a gold digger. They say you’re using Harley for his fame, that you don’t love him. They say you don’t deserve him because you’re a nobody, they—”</p><p>“Harry!” I look at MJ, shocked. I got so caught up in Harley and Harry I forgot her and Ned were here. “Stop. They’re not true and we know it. <i>You</i> know it.” </p><p>Ned steps forward a bit, putting up his hands, like he’s trying to calm Harry down. “Yeah, come on man. That’s not cool.”</p><p>All this information has my head spinning. I take a deep breath and try to compartmentalize everything. I shove the names the media calls me into a box and lock it. Push away the fact that everyone knew but me and shove it down for a later time. Right now, there’s one thing I want to deal with and it’s Harry. I think I’m glad that I know what people are saying about me, but Harry picked a really shitty way to tell me. I step between him and Harley, poking him in the chest. “Don’t. Be. A. Dick. We’ve been friends for a long time and I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you are not the person I befriended all those years ago.” I feel my throat tighten, threatening to cry, but I force it down. It’s hard to watch a friendship slip from your grasp, but if Harry isn’t going to support me and he’s not even going to try to understand, then I don’t know how much of a friend he was to begin with. “You’ve spent so much time with your head up your ass trying to protect me from someone that loves me that you can’t even see how much you’ve been hurting me. So I’d like it if you’d fuck off.”</p><p>I don’t wait for him to give me a response before I turn and walk away. I know I just told him to leave, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I wander through the park until I find an open seat on a bench and collapse onto it. I wipe at a tear that escaped and let out a shaky breath. Central Park is beautiful and watching the people out enjoying the weather, the wind rustle through the leaves calms me a bit. It’s nice to look out and pretend for a little while that everything is perfect. </p><p>I end up on a bench next to an older gentlemen that has some bread in his hands. When we make eye contact he says, “You okay there kid?” It shocks me a bit that he’s talking to me, a kid that probably looks half crazed and out of their mind. But I guess this is New York. I don’t respond right away, so he says, “Just the way you stomped over here and scared away all the birds I was feeding, I figured there might be something wrong.”</p><p>“Oh… I just had a fight with my friend. And uh, I’m not sure if we’re even friends anymore.”</p><p>A couple pigeons have come back and he starts tearing off pieces of bread and tossing it down for them. “Do you want to be friends with them?”</p><p> I shrug. “I mean, yeah. But I want to be friends with the old him, the one I knew when we first became friends.” </p><p>“Kid, people change. Sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better and sometimes it’s just change neither good or bad. I’ve found in life, that sometimes people grow apart. It’s just a part of life. But I’ve also found that if you love someone then you always find your way back to each other, you work through the change together.”</p><p>I hum in response, not sure what to say. I have no idea how long we sit together, him feeding his birds and me watching the lives of others that pass by, but eventually I see Harry walking through the people and I let out a sigh. I think the old man hears me because he looks up and follows my gaze. He stands up, collecting his things. “Ah, that must be the friend. I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got grandkids to visit anyway. Have a great day young man.”</p><p>And before I have a chance to respond, he’s being replaced by Harry. I don’t say anything when he sits down. I’ve said everything I wanted to him. Eventually, he clears his throat and says, “I want to apologize. I know that’s not enough for everything that I’ve said and the way I acted, but I’m here to beg for your forgiveness.” I turn to look at him and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry I never actually asked what happened between you, that I just assumed Harley was a shitbag. I just assumed that what I read about him was true. Which is obviously not the right thing to do seeing as what they say about you. And I’m sorry I told you that way. Those were hurtful things I said and I could have done it a bit more gracefully.” He runs a hand over his jeans, smoothing invisible wrinkles. “Harley told me what happened. Pete, I know I’ve said this a bunch already, but I’m sorry for being a terrible friend. I tried to help you forget instead of asking why and understanding and letting you talk about it. I want to be a good friend to you. You’re one of the only friends I have that like me for me and not for my dad or what I can give them. And I’m not telling you that to guilt trip you, but because I want you to understand how much you mean to me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry it took you pointing it out for me to see that. But I want you to know that I’m going to work to be a better friend and support you. I mean, if you still want me.”</p><p>“Harry, I’ve been sitting here, thinking, for a while now. I was trying to figure out where our friendship went wrong, how we ended up here on this bench. And it made me realize one thing. Change is inevitable. It happens to everyone. But I don’t think you’ve really changed.” His shoulders slump forward and I know he’s waiting for me to tell him that I don’t want him in my life anymore. “Everyone makes mistakes and does things they shouldn’t. You and I aren’t any different. What I’m trying to say is that you’re still the boy I met freshman year who was kind and loyal and ready to change the world. And you don’t have to try to be anything else with me.”</p><p> “So, you still want me around?”</p><p>“Of course I do.” I knock my shoulder into his and say, “Who else is going to correct all the math I get wrong?”</p><p> He snorts. “Like you’d ever get a math problem wrong.”</p><p> A smile breaks out across my face. “Yeah, but you still try to correct me.”</p><p>He lets out a loud laugh and it sets everything right again. Just that laugh tells me we’re going to be okay. Relationships are never easy, but they’re worth the work. Harry’s laugh mixes with the sound of leaves rustling together and the sounds of people out enjoying the day. It’s like the world telling me Harry’s going to seamlessly fit back into my life like he never left. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from Living Proof by Camila Cabello</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. And it's the kind of thing I always hoped I'd find</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm an idiot with one braincell, so sorry to anyone who read chapter 11 before I posted chapter 10! Everything's in the proper order now!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, who has this many clothes?” I set down the box I’m carrying that’s marked Harley’s Clothes and sit next to it. Opening it up, I sift through it pulling out a flower print button up. “I mean, who needs this many flower print shirts?” I pull out a few more, piling them in front of me to prove my point. </p>
<p>Harley laughs, sitting down next to me. He pulls a shirt out of the pile, holding it up in front of himself. “You love all my shirts, don’t even try complaining.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I do.” I snatch the shirt back from him, tossing back in the pile. “But I’m tired of carrying all your stupid clothes upstairs.”</p>
<p>Harley’s finally home from tour and after a month of searching, we finally found the perfect home. It’s not as big as his last place, but thats what I like about it. It has two floors, one with all the living spaces on it and the second floor with a few bedrooms. Much to Ned’s chagrin, it doesn’t have a pool, but I think the huge TV that he says he’s going to watch every Star Wars movie on makes up for it. It’s in a quieter part on New York, on a cobblestone street with trees lining the sidewalk. It feels like a bubble of New York where our crazy life can’t get to us. </p>
<p>We’ve been moving all our boxes into the right rooms so we can start unpacking them tomorrow. We thought it would be easier to just drop everything in the living room this morning and then move it to their rooms later. Though, now it’s later and I’m regretting that decision. It’s getting late and I’ve walked up and down these stairs so many times, I don’t think I can take another step. </p>
<p>Luckily, we had the forethought to put our mattress in here and put some blankets on it this morning. Harley points at it. “Bed? And we can finish this in the morning?”</p>
<p>We both look at the bed, then at the bed frame still in its box, then back at the mattress. “Yeah, bed.” I crawl over to the bed and burrow myself into the blankets. </p>
<p>When I feel Harley settle in next to me, I roll over, basically laying on top of him. I’m almost asleep when I feel a kiss placed to my head. Exhausted, I slip into a deep sleep. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> ***********</p>
</div><p>It’s been a week since we officially moved in and we’re still slowly getting everything put together and put away. One thing I did first was put together my little music nook. I have my piano and guitar and all my notebooks full of lyrics, full of my life. Putting away my notebooks has been a trip down memory lane. Flipping through the books of my old lyrics are a window into my past: the pain, the joy, everything. Writing has been how I’ve always processed life. When everything else was ripped out from under me, writing was still there for me. When the waves of life have been mercilessly beating on me, making me feel like I’m drowning, music is the buoy I clung to.</p>
<p>Some of my notebooks are so old that the pages are sticking together and some of the writing is fading. Some of the songs I listen to and laugh now. They’re about loves that were lost, pain that I don’t feel anymore. But each one is a snapshot into my life, into what I was feeling at that time in life. </p>
<p>I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here looking through old notebooks when Peter comes looking for me.  He’s got on my old high school shirt on and I smile at him as he settles in next to me on the floor. I can’t believe he still has that thing. It’s so old and worn out. There’s a whole at the collar and a mustard stain on it from a high school football game. His hair is still damp from his shower and there’s little wet droplets on my shirt where it’s dropped from his hair. I guess I can’t call the shirt mine anymore, Peter took it all those months ago and has never given it back.</p>
<p> He bumps my shoulder when he’s sitting and says, “I thought you already had these put away?”</p>
<p>I shrug. “I did, but I wanted to look through them again.” </p>
<p>He picks one of the notebooks up and starts flipping through it. He stops to look at one and I lean over to see which one it is. It’s an older song, one from a couple of albums ago that I never finished. I let out a small laugh when I see it. “Why are you laughing?”</p>
<p>“It’s just… I used to dream of finding love, the fairytale kind. I had all these ideas of grandeur about who he would be and how we would fall in love.”</p>
<p>When I look over at Peter, I’m expecting him to be laughing at me, at my younger self. Instead, his eyebrows are furrowed and he looks concerned. “Did I live up to it all?”</p>
<p>I can’t help but laugh. It’s just like Peter to be worried about something like that. God, I love him. “No, Peter, you were so much better. You were really something, not just the idea of something. I spent so many years dating all the wrong people, looking for what I found with you. I’ve been through hell and back. And I would do it all again if I had to because it lead me from all those wrong arms, right in to yours, right where I belong.”</p>
<p>He just stares at me for so long, I think maybe I said something wrong. “How are you so good with words? It’s fucking amazing.” He gestures around at the notebooks spread on the floor. “Look at all these. You somehow always know what to say, what to write, how to perfectly express how you’re feeling.”</p>
<p> “Thank you.” He presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw, humming against the skin there before leaning his head on my shoulder. I pull him in closer to me while I grab another book to look through. This one is newer. It has song ideas and lyrics from the last album and a few from this one. I slowly leaf through it, looking at completed and discarded songs.</p>
<p>Peter stops me when I reach one of the last songs I started before we broke up. “What’s this one?”</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>"When your legs don't work like they used to before<br/>And I can't sweep you off of your feet<br/>Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love<br/>Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks<br/>And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70<br/>And baby my heart could still fall as hard at 23<br/>And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways<br/>Maybe just the touch of a hand<br/>Oh me I fall in love with you every single day<br/>And I just wanna tell you I am"</i>
  </p>
</div><p> “Oh, it’s just a song I never finished.”</p>
<p> “How come?”</p>
<p> I shrug. “It was the last song I was writing before we stopped dating. I couldn’t ever bring myself to finish it.”</p>
<p> He runs his hand over the page. “But it’s such a beautiful one.”</p>
<p> I hum. “I could finish it for you, if you want.”</p>
<p> He sits up and looks at me. “You’d do that?”</p>
<p> “Yeah, of course, I would. I’d do anything for you.”	</p>
<p> He kisses me on the cheek. “And I would for you too, you know that.”</p>
<p> “Yeah, I do. I love you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title is from Easy by Camila Cabello<br/>Lyrics are from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Can we always be this close forever and ever?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone, this is the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one and I hope you like the ending as well. I had fun writing it! Thanks for reading this whole thing, even though there's definitely better things you could have been doing!💕</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I roll over, trying to find Harley and the warmth I know he has. I wake up a bit more when I realize he isn’t laying next to me. I reach out a hand to find him, but still find nothing. When I sit up and look over, I realize its because he isn’t there. Grabbing a sweater off the floor, I slip it on on my way out of the bedroom door and as soon as I’m walking down the stairs, I can hear Harley at the piano. In the few months we’ve been living together, this has been happening a lot. It happened a lot the last time he was finishing an album, but I still wish he would get some sleep. Some nights I wake up and drag him back to bed, but some nights I know he spends hours down here. There’s even been a few times I’ve found him slumped over the piano, passed out in the morning. </p>
<p>Recently, he’s been trying to finalize his new album: write the track list, design merch, decide on a name, start planning tour, and everything else that comes along with releasing an album. His record label has really been pressuring him to finish it and send them all the recordings. And for the most part, he has all of them finished, but he tells me there’s something missing from the album and he can’t figure out what it is. So, even though he spends most days at the studio, he spends lots of nights down here playing through his album and trying to figure out what it needs. </p>
<p>Stepping into the living room, I notice that the song he’s playing isn’t one I’ve heard before. I know he sees me while I walk across the room, but he doesn’t stop playing. I remember all that time a go, when he used to stop playing when I walked into the room because they were about me and he didn’t want me to know. Now he tells me he loves me everyday and it doesn’t matter who knows. When I settle next to him on the piano bench, he presses his leg against mine. His leg is warm against mine and I close my eyes and let the warmth wash over me, listening to what he’s playing. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <i>“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?<br/>With every guitar string scar on my hand<br/>I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover<br/>My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue<br/>All's well that ends well to end up with you”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>He stops playing all too soon and I open my eyes to look at him. He’s writing in one of his journals and his lips are moving without making a sound. Knowing he’s working, I quietly watch him, waiting for him to be done. When he finally turns to me, he gives me a soft smile and a quick kiss to the forehead. “I think I figured out what my album’s missing.”</p>
<p>I pull back from him, just enough to look up at him. “Yeah? What’s that?”</p>
<p>“A proper ending. I want it to end in a way that shows how happy I am, how in love I am.” He gestures at the notebook in front of him. “And I think this song is it. I think it’s the perfect ending to the album. I can finally say this album is finished.”</p>
<p> “Can I hear it?”</p>
<p> He turns toward me as best he can. “The song?”</p>
<p> I shake my head. “No, the whole album.” </p>
<p>I know I’ve heard it before, but never with this new song. And I know its 2am and we both have to work tomorrow. And I know there are a million other reasons this isn’t a good idea, but I don’t care. I want to hear them again and again and again. Until I know them all like the back of my hand and then I want to hear them again. Because they are Harley and I, they are everything we went through put into words and sounds so thoughtfully and beautifully it makes me want to cry. </p>
<p>And without answering, he grabs his music, turns to a page and starts playing the first song. It starts out happy and full of life, everything I feel like when I’m with him. His album talks about what it’s like to be chased by the paparazzi and the need he feels to hide him, us from it. He plays songs about when we broke up and how he felt. It talks about the wistfulness of wanting to be remembered and the pain of seeing me out with someone else. He sings about trying to move on and not being able to and saying sorry for the things he did and how he just wants me to tell him it will be okay and that I still love him, even when he’s being unreasonable. </p>
<p>It starts out happy and full of life and becomes sad and full of pain and slowly becomes happy once again. There are songs about love and loss and learning to apologize and say your wrong. And about a love that is really something and not just an idea of something. He sings about loving me for the rest of his life. And that even though we’re young it doesn’t mean we can’t be in love and know we’ve found each other. And it ends in a way that perfectly conveys how I love him. It’s soft and meant just for us. And I can’t wait for everyone to hear it. </p>
<p>It’s everything I’ve felt the whole time we’ve been together. The love, the fear, the sadness, the longing, the contentment. Life isn’t easy and being in love doesn’t mean we’re perfect. But we’re together for better or for worse. We know it and now the whole world is going to know it. I know that life is going to be hard, especially when we live it in front of the whole world. But I also know that it will be worth it with Harley standing next to me.  </p>
<p>When the album’s done, I let out a sigh. One thats born, not of exasperation, but of a knowledge that I am happy and I have everything I want in life. I lay my head on his shoulder and feel his arm wrap around my waist pulling me closer. In this moment, it’s just the two of us and it feels as if it can never last and like its infinite. And thats what I love about it. It’s special and perfect and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I shuffle closer, so it’s impossible to tell where his body ends and mine begins and let his warmth wash over me. “I love you.”</p>
<p> “I love you too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Title (and lyrics) are from Lover by Taylor Swift</p>
<p>This is what I imagined Harley's album would be: <br/>1) Living Proof by Camila Cabello<br/>2) I know Places by Taylor Swift<br/>3) Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift<br/>4) Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift<br/>5) Missing You by The Vamps <br/>6) Same to You by The Vamps<br/>7) Because I Had You by Shawn Mendes<br/>8) On Your Mind by The Vamps<br/>9) Afterglow by Taylor Swift<br/>10) This Love by Taylor Swift<br/>11) Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran<br/>12) Easy by Camila Cabello<br/>13) Lover by Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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